Atrophy
by MKG
Summary: Sequel to Child of Germany. Gerita. Postwar Germany is hell. The weak family struggle to survive & overcome the torture at the hands of others. Will Ludwig come to terms with his own identity as a man & a nation? where will he draw the line for his famiy
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer-** I don't hetalia ^^

This is the sequel fanfiction .net/story/story_?storyid=5574456

**Notes-** _This is the sequel to Child of Germany. If you haven't read it you might be confused. Originally this was going to be a sequel to Eins which was going to be a sequel to Child of Germany, but alas, I pushed back the setting of Atrophy to almost directly after the war. This is heavy heavy in the Gerita department later on, boyxboy, **yaoi**, etc. so be forewarned if that is not what you're into. This story will have very graphic abuse, violence, language, sensitive issues such as post war German politics, Nazi party, Communism, American Politics, rape, racism, and child abuse/killing. It is rated M for a reason. It might sound depressing but I do try and have **a lot** of sweet moments in it. Considering Child of Germany left serious issues unsettled, all of those will be tied up. Thank you for all the reviews for the Child of Germany ^^. English is not my first language so help with English is good ^^. Please R&R._

_Points to remember from Child of Germany-_

_Ludwig was removed from power prior to the camps being built  
_

_Feliciano resigned his power to his brother Romano_

_Gilbert was taken by Ivan_

_Leos was branded with the Hakenkreuz/swastika. (it will be called hakenkreuz from here on)  
_

_Leos is a representative of the people, originally included the Prussians. During the war an unification all German people are now in Leos, this does include those under the control of allies now. Its a sticky situation now, because there is ethnic Germans living elsewhere and now Germans dropping their ethnicity. This may or may not include the Jewish, gypsy, black, etc. people living in Germany, that is your own opinion to form.  
_

**ooooooooooooooooo**

Cushioned by emerald pillows of the earth's hair and blanketed by the heat of a topaz sun, he slept contently in the small field that over looked a partially repaired home. His white hair splayed across the blades of grass, entangling with them. His face marred with purple and yellow stains from beneath his skin. His left eye was neatly wrapped and padded with cotton, while his other lay half open as he dozed. The man's clothing was absorbing the dampness of the ground and staining his white dress shirt and pale pants. From the foot of the hill a call came for him, which he did not respond to. Again a soft, high voice beckoned him, and again his brain ignored his ears. Finally the man at the bottom of the hill trotted up and looked over his friend.

The inspector was shorter and his tanned body was lithe, but showing signs of muscle, which water droplets were racing down. His hair was a rich auburn that was saturated, his hands encrusted with soil. With a gentle nudge, he stirred the man from his resting place.

"Ve, Gilbert, it is time for lunch," He spoke tenderly but still the waking man jolted up and raised his arm in defense. His red eye blinked and refocused from his dream state to reality.

"Huh… Oh… Thank you Feli …" Gilbert sighed and stood on trembling limbs. His feet struggling down the slope to the home. Feliciano was in his shadow's ready to catch him if he fell. The home's features gradually came into focus. The half timbered cottage home was being patched up slowly on one side. The roof was replaced, outshining the rest of the old structure. One window was boarded in the back and side and the walls in the midst of getting a fresh coat of paint too keep it looking unnaturally clean. Beyond the cosmetic work however, internal damage was lurking, ignored once the bare necessities had been installed. A large garden was running along the right of the home and ran down the property's edge. Vivid colors bloomed from the stalks, the scent of fresh food and flowers permeated the air. Gilbert inhaled, holding the essence of his new home captive in his lungs before exhaling through his nose, preventing any bit of un-smelt odor from going unappreciated. Feliciano's hand shot out and opened the door for Gilbert before his hand could even raise from his side.

"Thank. You?" Gilbert questioned Feliciano's delicate behavior around him. He stepped into the home. The neglected repairs that, too a visitor, were dire became nothing but a wall paper pattern for the dwellers. The exposed pipes, electricity, no insulation and skeleton of the home left what was half the living room in a state of depression. The area that was once an office, was now torn down and barren. The floors were splintered and half covered with tarps. The latter half was in decent condition, a fire place was touched up so it could be used, the front portion of the room was untouched by any damage. The men walked through and into the large room that connected the living area to the kitchen, where the front door's window shone stained sunlight on the floor. The fragrance of boiling ham hocks and pungent spices poured into their senses. Gilbert's nose twitched with delight and his limping legs quickened.

"Fucking pig whore," A robust voice blurted. The blond at the counter withdrew his hand from the cutting board and cradled it. "Son of a bitch," He hissed. His other large hand squeezed his thumb. His hair was combed back and neat, his cerulean eye burned with pain and hatred. His body was guarded by a white apron which was stained with the juices of meat and broth.

"Ludwig, you okay?" Feliciano asked, Ludwig turned the on the water and ran his cut finger beneath the cold stream.

"Yea, I'm fine… Just help yourselves, just don't touch that parsley." He said. First to the pot was the albino, filling the chipped bowl to the rim and then balancing the liquid in the china's walls as he took his place at the table. Protectively, he hovered over his food, keeping his face as close as possible and sloppily rushing the meal into his mouth, gasping between bites. Feliciano watched as Gilbert as he dipped the ladle into the pot. His own bowl steamed with fresh aromas and tickled his nostrils, but his attention was on Gilbert and even after he sat, he kept an eye on his friends frantic eating. Ludwig returned, his finger bandaged, and scooped a bit out for himself.

The family sat in silence, the only conversation was the one the silverware were having with the bowls as they clanged and dinged. Gilbert broke concentration and his thin hand snatched a roll from the table to sop up the remaining broth that clung to the sides of his bowl. His teeth tore into the crusty bread wildly, his noises becoming distracting to Ludwig's meal. He pursed his lips, readying himself to scold his brother, but decided against speaking and stared back into his food. His brother leapt up for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, until his stomach distended and his face looked sick.

"That was good, thanks bro," He said, half heartedly excusing himself from the table. He placed his bowl in the sink and gave his hands a quick rinse.

"I'm taking a nap, mind if I use your bed?" He asked, Ludwig eyed his dirt stained clothing.

"Change into something clean before you lay down… Need help up the stairs?" Ludwig responded.

"No, I'm fine." Gilbert said as he lumbered away with an awkward gait. Listening to the thumps of each step, he could tell his brother was dragging his leg. Feliciano and Ludwig remained quiet until the door clamped shut.

"He was starved, wasn't he?" Feliciano spoke under his breath,

"I don't know," Ludwig answered,

"He's not getting better…"

"It takes a long time to recover from the injuries he has…. He needs plenty of food and sleep, he will get better." Ludwig said. Feliciano sighed and gathered his used dishes. It was blasphemy to speak of the older brother's episodes. Although the albino was returned rather quickly after the war, it wasn't Gilbert. That powerful air about him and confidence was replaced by a meek, feral, acting man. Why Ivan had returned the brother so quickly, was still a fact only Gilbert knew. Feliciano searched his mind for a way to put off the tense atmosphere.

"That was a good lunch Ludwig," He complimented,

"Thank you…" He said. _How did our lives get so boring? Our conversations so dull?_ Ludwig thought.

"Ludwig… Can we visit Leos today?" Feliciano's voice was rushed, as if asking for something he knew he shouldn't have. He bit his lip, waiting for a response. He heard his friend breathe deep, it sounded like a negative. His lips dipped into a frown.

"I will have to ask the Postman if we can borrow his car again… but if so, then yes."

ooooooooooooooo

The pleasant pallet of purple, yellow and green speckled the rolling hills of the country side. The miles of wire fencing held in cattle that sat lazily upon the grass, watching the occasional car go by. The sky was bright, the air radiated heat, and wonderful scent of rural land intoxicated the area. The peace was only disturbed by the old car that rumbled down the road.

The steel horse weaved a bit with every attempt on the driver's part to scold the passenger next to him. With his blond hair combed meticulously back and face clean shaven, he tried to avoid getting upset. His pristine eyes glued to the road, trained never to leave the dark gray concrete, now were fighting to break the stare and glare at his friend. Next to him, a bubbling man who's excitement was manifesting in an intense fidgeting and bouncing which shook the frame of the vehicle. His auburn hair fluttered as he jolted himself about the seat. Cheeks plump with a smile and olive skin blushed with bliss, his energy would simply not be contained.

"Sit down and be calm, Feliciano," The German ordered,

"But Ludwig, how can you be so sedimentary?" He exclaimed,

"I am as excited as you are but a little self control goes a long way, so once we- For the sake of all that is holy stop bouncing!" His scolds cut off by more demands Ludwig sighed and decided the best test for his acclaimed "self control" was to bare with the constant badgering of his Italian friend.

"Ludwig, we should stop in town and pick up something for the postman! I mean, he was nice enough to lend us his car, we should repay him." Ludwig smirked at the first good suggestion Feliciano had all day. "Isn't it suppose to be hard to get a German to give up his car?" Feliciano asked, his good idea was tainted by his stereotypical remark. The car itself was nice, despite its age, and looked as it did in the 1930's. It's dashboard was free from dust, the gears repainted and glossed on the stick, and the seats were the same hard unforgiving surface both men remembered. It was a car a middle class citizen might, good working but not much for looks. It was amazing the postman could protect such an item as well as afford it's upkeep.

"Yes… That is the stereotype… But I think he is thankful," Ludwig spoke through his teeth.

"Ludwig… I'm sorry I get so excited, it's just… We never visit him much." Feliciano said as he rested his chin on the dashboard. His eyes lazily sweeping from side to side, taking in the German countryside. Ludwig breathed in, letting his shoulders relax a bit.

"It's okay… I know you try to control yourself… You do really well most of the time, so I suppose I can understand." Ludwig said. From the crevasse of the hills the tanned roofs of the village peeked up. A steeple guarding the rows of homes, staring down at the visitors as they drove. Each home was lined up like troops, straight, clean and at attention. The windows shone like bright eyes and the wide doors gave the houses a delightful look. A team of draft ponies pulled along a green carriage stocked with milks and cheese. The man was dressed in the traditional Bravian way, black, whites, greens, and yellows were embroidered on his pants and hat. Ludwig slowed down and waved him over.

The horses stopped, but immediately started gnawing at each other. The man stepped down from his perch and approached the car.

"What kind of cheese do you have?"

"Wiesslacker, Butterkaese, Raeucher, Sauermilch," The elderly man's lips were thin, the sagging skin on his face jostled with every movement of his muscles.

"Butterkaese and Sauermilch please," The old man scurried to the back of his wagon, hissing at his steeds to quick bickering. With ears pinned, they obeyed, lips curling and ready to start fighting again. The man brought out two packages of cheese wrapped in wax paper and butcher string. Ludwig molested his pockets for his wallet, bring out the worn paper money and exchanged it for the meticulously wrapped food. One of the horses squealed and kicked at his companion.

"Eey!" The man scolded again and the two settled back down.

"Lively stock you have here." Ludwig joked,

"Yes, one is from the north and the other from the south," The old man chuckled,

"Such fine stock, I bet you get many miles from them." Ludwig complimented,

"Ah, yes, if only they would tolerate each other… Well good day sir,"

"Good day," Ludwig bid. He waited until the horses began to trot off before shifting the clunky transmission. With a lurch, the car chugged off on its journey, trailing a thick line of exhaust away from the carriage. Ludwig's eyes glance up at the back mirror a few times, watching the old wagon disappear down the road.

"What service they have in the south!" Italy exclaimed as he set the cheese into the back seat.

"Well, we were lucky… He just happen to be out, probably making deliveries."

"Do a lot of people around here still use horses?" Feliciano asked as he squirmed to find a comfortable position.

"Horses are useful. If he's using them to plow his fields why not use them to deliver food as well? And doctor cattle? Use them for everything you can before you buy something specifically for that use." Ludwig's explanation failed to answer his question but Feliciano didn't pester further. Instead his eyes drifted from house to house. The tiny village had never changed, every trip through it had the same appearance, the same people, the same linens hanging from the balconies. Seemingly untouched by the war, it was an incredible gem buried in the grave of the country. The smells of the town were colorful and changed with each block, first of fresh bread, then smoked meats and lastly of the ripe seasonal fruits. The scents were caught in the car, lingering even when they exited the limits, and Feliciano savored the last bit of odor. Each unique one filling his mind with colors and visions. His hands ached to paint out his mind's creations.

Feliciano looked forward again, recognizing the iron fencing that was twisted into floral patterns and accented with rust. The pines that dotted the sides of the road thinned slightly. Grey stones rose from the ground in all shapes and sizes. Some carved into angels and figures, while others were crooked and barely holding themselves up. The small graveyard overlooked a steep slope down into the farmlands where goats and cattle grazed. Their bells chiming a fitting symphony for the dead. The gates were high and guarded by two stone lions that who's mournful faces gazed across the fatherland, witnessing every soul's passing.

Feliciano's excitement faded and his chest felt raw. A sadness over took him, his brows arching up and mouth frowning. Ludwig too fell still, biting his inner cheek. This was the difficult part of the journey, after all this travel, the bold reminder of mortality displayed in front of them.

The car sped past, leaving the dead in peace and continuing around the bend. A sigh of relief came from both passengers when the place was out of sight. Ludwig blinked a few times, trying to refocus on his task. The winding road concealed their destination, the monstrous mounds of earth and grass guarding a hidden sanctuary. Like a child climbing over a parent's shoulder, the roof and walls of the hospital appeared.

It was a quaint place, build originally as a large inn for the weary, it was converted into a hospital during the war. The copper gates in front were well oxidized, blending with the ivy that over took the stone walls. The courtyard offered a small parking area, while some benches and small flower gardens were available to guests to sit and enjoy the fresh mountain air. Ludwig parked the car in the back, leaving enough room between the other cars to prevent anyone's door from striking his borrowed ride.

The hospital was unlike any traditional establishment. It was lined with marble and high arches which were the perches of stone eagles. The desk was circular and several nurses in white starched dresses sat typing rhythmically. The tall ceiling were lined with massive stained windows that colored the room depending on the position of the sun and light the entire entrance with no electricity. Patient's with their own escorts wandered freely to stretch their legs and observe the art the staff decorated the halls with. The former inn's high expectation had carried over into its renovation.

As they walked to the desk Feliciano reminisced about the difficulty of getting Leos transferred to this mountain oasis. Prior to this luxurious palace he was in a state hospital in the east that was overrun with the dead and dying. The nurses did not change his diapers or bed sheets. If they remembered to feed the poor thing, it was only a meal a day. If a skeleton could get thinner, it would be Leos. The child's body was marred with massive bruises, which may or may not have been from his inherited condition. It was in the winter when Ludwig came on Christmas eve and saw the doctors and nurses laughing at his son and other patients who, even in their coma like state, shivered and laid under what should have been a mattress cover made blanket which was soaked with urine. There was little quality care for the body for a German under the care of a Russian. Ludwig heard of this little lap of paradise in the south, a private hospital run by a wealth doctor who used it as a teaching hospital. Able to train his own staff, it was kept up to his quality. Ludwig brought his starving boy and begged for admission. The doctor immediately excepted his young patient, soon after opening a child's unit for the sick village children.

The only down side to the hospital was that its distance from their central located home was as far as possible. Ludwig traded his car for food, enough to get them through that critical first year of chaos. Their visits were infrequent, the price of gasoline was high and Ludwig though lowly of asking to borrow a car and not being able to afford to fill the tank when returning it. Whenever he had the money, Ludwig would take them up to visit the body of his child.

"Excuse me, I would like to visit my son, Leos Beilschimdt." Ludwig's voice broke Feliciano's thoughts. The nurse smiled up at him,

"Certainly sir," She chirped, her nimble fingers sifted through a file of passes. She marked the laminate with the date and room number before handing them to the two men.

As they wandered the halls of the hospital, Feliciano's eyes absorbed every detail. Each patient, despite his or hers aliment, seemed content. The scent was clean but a harsh burning chemical odor that tried to conceal the stench of infection, present in most hospitals, was absent. The veins of the earth were fossilized in the marble floors that broke up the bland flat white of the wall. The children's section was closed off from the remainder by a set of new doors, which looked out of place.

The moment Ludwig pushed through the doors, a new world was revealed. Children of all ages and injuries plagued the open layout of the room. Each patient separated by curtains. Nurses and what looked like volunteers were doing from each bed and writing down vitals. Some of the older children were up and playing. Two girls sat on a bed playing cards to the left. A tiny boy, perhaps no older than four, used his cast arm to steady his toy plane as he pretended to fight off the enemy pillow. The noise level was higher, both in joy and agony cries. A toddler wailed as she was injected by a nurse who pleaded for her to relax. Another reached for his bottle as an elderly woman prepared it. In the back, under the constant cloak of blue curtains, was the "room" stamped on their passes that clung to their shirts.

Ludwig's thick fingers parted the clothe. The sunlight showered in streams down unto a small child. The dust sparkling like gold powder around an angelic face. His body was concealed with a thick quilt, only his face was exposed and one arm. That arm had an IV of clear fluids entering his hand. His face was round, a slight blush on his cheeks. His hair had darkened from the lack of sun, now only a few shades lighter than his father's. His lips were plump and pink. Brow smooth and free of stress.

The most notable difference however was his weight. Although still underweight, he was much plumper, even more so than when he was in his father's care. By doctor's estimate, he was only one to two kilograms under ideal. A child with a thin, but at the very least present, layer of fat was resting peacefully before them. Ludwig sat and placed his warm palm against his son's face. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into his muscles, the child's jaw shifting beneath the pressure of the man's movements.

"It's me Leos, Papa," Ludwig whispered, "Feli and I have come to visit again. Your Uncle Gilbert is still too injured to travel far, but he sends his love… It is such a beautiful day my son. You should open your eyes and see it… Spring has finally come, all the cattle in the fields are fat with calves, the flowers are blooming, and the sun is so warm. Feli has been working hard on the garden, getting food ready for us. The house finally has a new roof, but it looks odd, too clean next to the older tiles. You'll laugh when you come home to see it but at least it is covering your room. Oh, your room is now fixed and I'll build you a new bed before you come home. The rest of the house needs more work but perhaps that is something you and I can do, a father son project? Would you like that?... The postman was nice enough to lend us his car again. Remember him? He was the man that drove you to the hospital with Feli. He seems to like you, but who couldn't with such a handsome face as yours. You take after your Papa," Ludwig chuckled. This kind of conversation would happen with each visit, Ludwig would go first then Feliciano. Both of them encouraging him to rose from his resting place.

"Let's check your wounds, ok?" Ludwig said. He pulled back the blanket to reveal his son's body.

It was a meager vessel of flesh, but it was better than Ludwig remembered. His left side was marked with bruises and wounds that look as if his skin split open. Ludwig's skillful hands examined each one and knew they were spawned from his curse. His right side was still heavily bandaged and coated with a protective salve. Beneath the cotton shield and paper tape was horrid mark of hatred, that even when covered from view, Ludwig could clearly see. His chest throbbed when his eyes fell upon the wrapping and he turned away. Feliciano now took his place at the boy's side. His browned skin pulled the covers back over his pseudo nephew.

"Ve, I am very happy to see you Leos, I have been thinking about you a lot. I am saving up and am going to buy some sugar. When you wake up, I sure even Ludwig would permit you to have a doughnut." A light laugh was heard from the corner of the enclosure were Ludwig stood. Feliciano's lips stretched into a smile. "Yes, I'm sure your regimented father would have no problem giving in _one_ time, huh? With a cute little face like yours I'm surprised he hasn't completely spoiled you rotten! I would have, I guess that why I am not a Papa, eh?... You'd love the view from your window, it is the best in the hospital I bet. You know what else I think? I think you miss your swing, huh? I made a new one for you, we had to sell the tire so I made you a wooden seat. It came from a nice wide log, big enough to sit your father." A snort interjected but Feliciano continued. "Oh, that also reminds me. I re-stuffed your lamb, you can have him when you're ready to wake up. He's so fat now, not like before when it looked like a stick. No, you little lamb has been pigging out on Ludwig's cooking I'm afraid…" Feliciano took hold of the child's small hands. Playing with each of his perfectly formed digits.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

_We will see more about what shape Germany is really in later on, but it would be very weighted for me to start out that intense. If you do not know any post-ww2 German history I will still have the actual text book notes posted like I before at the end. __The next chapter deals with more realistic setting._**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer-** Don't own hetalia. _

_**Note-** Thank you for all the reviews ^^ as always English is not my first language so grammar help = love. This is the last "introduction" chapter and the true plot will start to take shape. Historical notes at the bottom. I'm not particularly happy with how i wrote this chapter but I'm going a way for a while so the next update might be a ways off D:  
_

**oooooooooooooooo**

Feliciano's tanned fingers wriggled through the soil like a worm, prodding the earth's flesh for his treasure. His back was shimmering with sweat that accented his brown skin. His hair was drenched, protecting his face from the harsh sun. On his knees he hunted for his prey, the un tilled ground was hard and grinding into his nails. Finally he felt a slick wetness and latched onto it with a gentle pinch. From the small hole he brought a worm. Squirming in his hands it flopped around in a desperately in search of its dark native home. Feliciano placed it with other frantic pink strings in clothe covered bucket. Hastily covering his pock mark he had scarred the earth with, he rushed the collection of worms across the yard to the garden.

He opened the old oil barrel full of compost and heaved his little ruby chains inside. He watched as they eagerly swam into the rotting scraps and dirt. At the advice of farmers in the area, Feliciano went in search of worms to aid in the garden work. The summer crops needed to be planted soon, which meant resting parts of the soil while fertilizing others.

Grunts came from the far side of the garden as Ludwig once gain found himself hitched like an old ox to a plow. His boots pressed into the earth like iron shoes of a horse. His nostrils flared with each step, back arching with each powerful stride. His muscles had indeed dwindled, he had never needed to sway from side to side to move such a primitive machine. The remaining shape to his body quivered beneath his pale skin. His shoulders lurched forward to bare the brunt of the weight. Behind him, Gilbert kept the plow down into the soil. His good leg pressed while his lame leg limped along. His eyes winced each time his foot brushed the soil. Feliciano watched the brothers work for a moment.

They had plowed a new area to allow for large summer vine vegetables and let the exhausted spring patch recuperate. Ludwig had little to offer on his own land, less than a 2 hectares, but in the lawless craze he had secretly infiltrated the government land. He had stolen the precious wild berries from nature and fuel for his stove. Animals provided him meat and hide, food, something they all knew was more precious than platinum. Feral farm animals occasionally trotted within the brush, a tempting source of income, but so far it was impractical to snatch such beasts up.

"Whoa their Bessie," Gilbert said, Ludwig kicked back at the plow, jolting Gilbert onto his lame foot. "Fucking bitch, ahh… I'll have to hobble you," He grunted through his teeth.

"Ve, Ludwig would like that." Feliciano laughed. The blond looked at his friend, dumbfounded at his slightly vulgar rebuttal. "What? I am not allowed my moment of naughty humor?" Feliciano's brows dipped sarcastically with a smile on his face.

"Only if it was you Feli," Gilbert muttered just high enough for his brother to hear. Ludwig promptly shoved him, sending him back on his injured leg.

"Ow, son of whore," Gilbert hissed between his jagged teeth. Ludwig had observed his brother's strange new mouth. Most of his teeth had been chipped, some looked shifted, and most of the far back ones, only visible when his lips parted for oversized bread portions, had been removed. His canines which had always been long, menacing, fangs were the only thing truly recognizable in his collection of pearly bones.

"Ludwig, I have to make a call, I'll be right back." Feliciano interrupted his line of thought. Ludwig simply nodded and pulled the plow from the earth. His hand's wrapped up the ropes and leather buckles he had fashioned to make his labor easier.

"He is calling that prick again. Huh?" Gilbert mumbled,

"It is his brother,"

"So? He's a traitor and he gives Feli hell every time the poor thing calls," Gilbert's face curled into a sneer.

"Romano is just angry Feli does not want to return to Italy." Ludwig's reasoning only scratched the surface of the truth neither brother wanted to prod into nor assume about the other.

ooooooooooooooo

"Hello Romano," Feliciano's voice was low, a sad happiness washed over him when his brother's deeper voice answered.

"What,"

"I just wanted to call you. See how you are doing."

"You know damn well how I am doing," There was a moment of silence before Feliciano breathed.

"I'm sorry things are not going wel-"

"Sorry? Your sorry? You shoved you mess unto me to be with that damn murderer. You put this country in the hole it is in now! You abandoned your blood to be infatuated with some psychotic mess!"

"That's not true at all brother," Feliciano's calm voice provoked his sibling's rage.

"Fuck it is. All you care about is that refined bred little prick and his country. Do have any idea what the Italian people are going through? What I am going through? And you don't even have the balls to come home and help." His words were so acidic they burned Feliciano from the ear down his neck and into his stomach where a heat began to glow. His breath became unsteady and Romano's insults mixed and flowed without his brains comprehension.

"They will decide your pretty little hide is too dark and put over an open fire!" A switch flicked at his brother's obscene statement.

"NO!" It was something feline like, as if a cat had been cornered and shrilling to frighten off its pursuers. The actual family cat jumped up at the shout and bolted, knocking over a stack of papers as he morphed from a furry ball to dark smear that disappeared upstairs. Feliciano quivered, his lungs unsteadily forced out his hot breath. His knuckles whitened around the phone, which only responded with a dead silence. He heard his elder sibling breath in to speak but slammed the phone into its cradle before he could get the words out.

The Italian slumped and sat himself on the couch. His heart twisting in his chest, blood rushing to every corner of his body.

_It's not true…_ He thought _He happily accepted the power. I knew he wasn't going to keep up his end of the deal that was previously arranged with Germany. Perhaps I wanted my country to surrender. But there was no way I could be representative of my country and still be here. There was no way Romano and I could ever agree on fixing Italy. And I know if I remained in power I would have fallen with Germany… Romano thinks it is bad there? He should sulk in Berlin, be under the hands of Ivan, and be at the mercy of other countries. Politically, my brother must be a mess. But what did we lose? Land, respect, war causalities? Italy is in one piece at the very least… But… He'll never understand… I don't even understand…_ Italy let his head fall into his palms. He had run the scenario over and over again. There were so many reasons to resign, but why had he truly chosen to forfeit his power? He once again denied his mind access to that part of his brain and instead turned to the kitchen.

It was a wonderful noise, a knife against a wood board, the crisp snap of fresh vegetables and the smell of mild herds. Like his own spa, the kitchen was Italy's little sanctuary and when it was occupied none of the residents dared to disturb him but eagerly waited for the results of his indulgence. The other males listened to the melody of pots and pans in the other room. The taste of the air was already deliciously flavored with basil and tomato, the hallmark of Feliciano's dishes. His nimble fingers arches as he chopped with such pace the steel blade was a blur. His pupils shot from corner to corner, following his furious hands. A fine powder of flour coated him, making the Italian appear paler. Next to him the pot mumbled, tossing around fresh dough bits in its gut. Without taking his eyes from the vegetables he was separating, his free hand drifted over with spoon in hand and stirred the pasta.

The meal again, though delicious, lack any stimulating conversation. Gilbert savagely scoffed down his portions and fought to get more. Ludwig challenged his brother for the food, their eyes meeting with a competitive glare and growling stomachs. Feliciano had little appetite and inside laughed at the way the two men fought over his cooking. Where one brother took from the pot, the other would take from the bread, then one from the vegetables, then to counter the other would eat pure herbs or garnish. It reminded the brunette that even with Ludwig invading government land, there was not enough land on his plot to support feeding his family of three. Even still, they were far better off than others. At the very least, they had land to their name.

Feliciano closed his eyes, the images were still in his seared into his corneas, making a blue bruise against his dark lids. The faces of pitifully thin people, shivering hard enough to be mistake for convulsions, begging for warmth on the cobble street. Their thin arms stretched out and pleading for mercy. The cries of babies, children and teens dying in the alley ways. The scent of gas leaking and poisoning his brain. The rancid taste to the air could never be washed from his mouth, it marinated him to the bone. That bitter flavor of oil, ash, rotting flesh, burning bodies and fear. Shattered glass frosted the streets like a macabre snowfall from hell. It even crunched under his boots like snow would.

Even if he went into the town today, the vision was not much different. The glass was now dust that made everything gritty. People no longer begged for heat, but for food. Children were no more, neither were the elderly. The gas was gone and burned. The buildings mere skeletons of blackened brick that teetered precariously over the homeless in their arms. Few places were still inhabitable. The post office, which ran on wood stoves, was spared. One building next to it was half intact, just enough to be a local store which had questionable rations of food. Most of it was traded from the soldiers for other items which no longer were useful to a German. English stamped army cans were under lock and key, the owner displayed his gun proudly in his hands constantly.

This image was always in Feliciano's mind. He had grown the gall through the suffering to venture without Ludwig into the dilapidated town each week to see what he could afford. Today was that day, his blood was already beginning to mix with his chemicals, reading him for the dangerous trip. Ludwig, too, knew Feliciano's routine. His eyes dodged wearily from his friend to the food.

"I should get ready…" Feliciano said as he cleaned his bowl with a piece of bread.

"Feliciano…" Ludwig's call had no meaning, the Italian placed his dishes in the sink and went to the door. Ludwig left his competition with his brother and followed the smaller man.

"Feliciano, please, let me escort you," Ludwig's voice was hushed but had a higher tone. Was he pleading?

"Ludwig, it's dangerous enough we leave Gilbert alone when we visit Leos… I appreciate your concern but I can do this chore," Feliciano said. Gilbert cringed at Feliciano's statement. His teeth grinded like a soured horses and his brows dipped in rage.

"I'm not helpless," He breathed, but no one heard. Ludwig looked over his southern friend. The leaner man's body use to be boyish, more bone and flesh than muscle. Over time the man's breeding stock became evident. His shoulders had shape that dipped into his forearms. His chest was no longer flat and etched with ribs but his breast was forward with an acceptable layer of strength beneath the skin. His stomach, still hollow with hunger, had some ridges of needed definition. He was becoming masculine.

"Alright Feli… Be careful, take the knife," Ludwig said,

"I'll be fine,"

oooooooooooooooooo

From the moment he left the property, adrenaline trickled through his cells. As he walked, unaccompanied by the usual lion at his side, every shadow was a threat. Their shifting shapes danced around him like victorious thieves over a victim. Each sound caused a reaction from the lone man. In his haste to leave he had not put on a shirt, now his true weakness was available for the world to see. Feliciano's stride was long and scoping, covering as much ground as possible. The town was not much safer but at the very least, a thief would think twice about attacking in the open. Ahead he saw that curve in the road, town just around the bend. The trademark odor of the area hit his nose.

The village he had considered home for years now was a mere ash smudge in a landscape of coal colored land. The country side had been spared such direct destruction, but it had its own dangers. The square was now littered with people, trading anything they could. It had been nearly a year now, and pickings were slim. No longer were there dresses to sell, jewelry, watches or clothe. No, that was all far gone and traded in the winter for wood, food and blankets. Now it was trading anything. Feral livestock was tied and being sold, butchered in the streets and traded again. Weapons, crude stones or fine guns, were also being bargained.

Feliciano rushed into the store, wanting to erase the sight of the starving and desperate people. Inside the place was packed. Everything was behind the counter, guarded by the owner's ever loaded gun. He either accepted or rejected the items offered to him in exchange for his goods. Those rejected dare not question him, he had no problem using the gun. Each time Feliciano entered the store, the memory of one of his first visits there with Ludwig once again bloomed in his mind. A simple objection, a man wanting to trade a dress for a few potatoes was denied, he slammed his fist on the counter and was shot. His bleeding body was cast side in the streets, leaving a path of fluid behind. 'let the homeless have a meal' was all the shopkeeper said as patrons disposed of the bleeding body.

Feliciano squeezed by the people who looked beyond the counter and popped out before the man. His gun like a mallet, ready to sentence someone to death if it be necessary. His critical eyes fell on the Italian.

"I would like some flour please," He asked,

"How much?"

"Do you have two kilos?"

"Yes, what do you offer?"

"I have small hides," Feliciano pulled the rabbit hides from where he had tucked them in his pants. He knew Ludwig would be upset if he traded away hide, but without flour almost nothing could be made that would sustain them. Bread, pasta, noodles, crackers, rolls, anything filling. The potatoes would not be ready to harvest until much later in the year. That left nothing but vegetables and whatever meat Ludwig would drag from the forest.

The man inspected the hides. The three of them could be patched together to make a hat or cut into gloves for winter.

"I can get more for flour, next." He pushed the skins back to Feliciano. His heart slumped inside his ribs. His head cast down he turned away from the counter. Others shoved in to take his place, offering items short of their souls for the food.

oooooooooooooo

"Fucking cock master! I can bathe myself!" Gilbert roared up at his brother, his eyes boiling over with spite. Ludwig was leaning over him in the tub, a clothe in one hand and his brother's shoulder in the other. The man in the water bore his teeth and curled his lips into a sneer. Ludwig had forced himself into the room, making Gilbert hostile from the start. The older male had a developed a vice similar of Leos in the time when he returned. He did not let anyone see him nude. Now violated of his privacy, the lighter man was fuming.

"You can't reach you back or feet, I must help y-"

"NO!" Gilbert launched a warning swipe, his weak fingers arching into a claw that narrowly missed the fair man's face. Through the water, Gilbert's injuries shined through. Like a morbid reef, they dyed the landscape of his sand white skin beneath the clean sea of bathwater. Deep, open, wounds exposed the inner layers of his body. The fat, veins and muscles were open to see on a large gash in his stomach. His shoulder's were cinched up with crude bailing twine to keep them from falling open. His one leg was almost blue with bruises. His lame leg however was far worse. Crippled with dips and twists in the bones it was in desperate need of resetting. The pain, how he bore such pain, was a miracle. His femur was misshapen under his wasting muscle, his shin had a dip in it and when baring loads had a give to it. Neither of the two injuries was completely healed and Ludwig knew he must destroy what improvements his body attempted to make and set them right. Gilbert would simply not allow his brother to do anything. Not even so much as help him clean himself.

"Gilbert please,"

"I said NO! Fuck you! Fucking leave me alone! I can do it myself!" His nails slashed against the younger one's cheek. They barely had the strength to leave a mark. Ludwig could feel how he struggled to harm him, to make him flinch. His fingers quivered as they tried to dig into his siblings face, but it felt to Ludwig as no more than a strand of grass jabbing him. Ludwig set the clothe down on the rim and stood up.

"Alright… Call me if you need me." He murmured under his breath. He walked out, Gilbert's eyes staring into his spine and sending a frigid tingle to his feet. He left the door ajar.

The moment Ludwig reached the staircase he heard the frustrated cries of his brother bubble from the tub. He knew he had smothered his face in the water to cry. His wrists slamming against the porcelain in agony. Guilt washed over him, he had been using his mauled brother in labor. The elder happily went along, hiding the suffering both from his face and from the view of others. He had pushed Gilbert unto that injured leg, he used his weight to keep the plow in the ground, he used his brother as a tool. Ludwig's heart swelled and cringed, his lips parted. He wanted to apologize. The screams crescendo after a brief moment of silence, probably to breathe.

Ludwig slipped down the staircase and into the kitchen. He sat at the table, his head on the wood and arms crossed over his crown, pulling at his hair in frustration. He heard the door click and he shot up. Feliciano's slender shadow moved across the adjacent wall and he settled back down.

The Italian stared for a moment up the stairs in fear, but after a dull glance from Ludwig, he sighed and locked the door. His hands worked the array of metal dead bolts and chains that were fastened to the entrance. As if they would prevent an intruder. Feliciano laid the hide on the table and sunk in his chair.

"I couldn't get flour," He admitted,

"Not for fur?"

"No, not even fur…"

"They will regret their ignorance come winter… What do they want?"

"Cigarettes, valuable documents, things they can pass off to Americans…" Feliciano cringed as Gilbert shouts peaked for a moment.

"Damn it…"

"That town… That town that is near the hospital…They accept money… It's as if they don't know…" Feliciano said,

"They are small, self sufficient… They have cut themselves off and preserved their life. It will not last though. They could never get anything that isn't produced in town. Everything is privately owned and was snatched up in the chaos. Everyone in that little town is probably related as well. They are more willing to look out for each other." Ludwig explained. He paused for a moment and leaned back into his chair.

"I'm going to grab unto Gilbert and reset his leg… It's completely destroyed. I have no idea how he has managed with it…"

"How bad?"

"The bone is starting to give… I had him work… I had him fucking work… I made him use that bad leg and the pushed him unto it." Ludwig sunk his head into his lap.

"He wanted to work, he seemed fine! Ludwig, you couldn't have known it was so bad. I'm surprised he even let you into the bathroom, you know how he is about him nudity." Feliciano reasoned. The blond heard nothing of his friends words.

"It's my fault," He hissed,

"No, Ludwig,"

"It's my fault,"

"Ludwig,"

"I should be snapped in half,"

"Ludwig!" Feliciano raised his voice, "Don't wallow in your own regrets and self loathe! That will not help!"

"…"

ooooooooooooooooooo

Ludwig held the broom sticks in his hand and fire wood he had whittled and cut to size. On the table was duct tape, nails, and a hammer. He went over his gruesome plan over and over again. If his brother's leg had any hope of healing straight, they would have to do it themselves. Feliciano looked on with him, his eyes downcast.

"We should just do it," Ludwig said. Ludwig's ears had been tracking his brother since he struggled from the tub and into the guest room. Silently, he gathered his instruments, ghosting around the corner and up the stairs as if he was hunting a rabbit.

The moment he shoved the door open Gilbert picked up the nearest object and flung it at the door. A reflex that had become the norm, whether they entered for good or bad. Immediately, Ludwig gently held his brother's wrists. Feliciano soon replaced the German's large hands held the albino's face down.

"What the fuck assholes!"

"We need to reset the leg, and there is no way if I told you before you would let us near you."

"FUCK YOU!" Gilbert raised his better leg and kicked out at his brother. Feliciano repositioned himself so his knees secured the injured man's leg, while holding his hands above his head. Ludwig balled up the pillow case and jammed it into his brother's mouth.

"Bite it," He ordered,

"Phhuch u-ahhhhhhhgggg!" Ludwig did not wait, his hands felt for the break and popped the bones up. Though the softened flesh he felt for a straight line. Securing the broomsticks on either side of the leg he set the wood on top of his shin.

"Forgive me brother,"

"uu huunt phhheeeel! Uu ccc… Pheeeel!" Gilbert's teeth bit don't on the fabric as Ludwig gingerly tapped in the nails to the wood. His makeshift support prevented the splint from shifting. The length of the stick and connection prevented Gilbert from rising. Finally he sealed the splint to the flesh with the tape.

Gilbert face was wet with tears. He flung Feliciano off him and spit the clothe out.

"You little BITCH! I will fucking kill you!" His voice cracked in anger.

"You want a crooked leg? A leg that you will not be able to walk on eventually? I am sorry I hurt you."

"No! you ass fuck! I was trying to fucking tell you! I can't feel that part of my leg! I can only feel the thigh!" Gilbert latched until the pillow case and whipped his brother in the face. "Stupid ass master! Why do you think I can even walk on it?"

"Why didn't you say that before?" Ludwig barked back,

"Who cares! Who gives a damn if Gilbert dies? Who gives a bloody flying cock if Gilbert is crippled! Huh?" Gilbert's demonic eyes glowed with a rage that made something within Ludwig's soul quiver. He took a step back without meaning too.

"Gilbert… I,"

"Get out… Get out!" The albino's hand clutched the nearest object, a cane, and projected it toward his retreating housemates. It slammed against the closing door and bounced unto the floor. His vision blurred with tears as the pain began to burn from his thigh to stomach. The hastily fashioned splint extended past his foot.

_I'm trapped… A bedridden useless meat sack… Why? Why? Why could he not just kill me? Much he watch me suffer in the house of my brother? Wither in this bed… Why did he have to choose the worst of all tortures… Damn Slav… Fucking bitch…_

"Fucking BITCH!"

oooooooooooooooo

Feliciano flinched when he heard Gilbert shout. His mouth curled down and a look of guilt plagued his features.

"He'll get over it. He does this every few days, you should know the drill…" Ludwig took a hot pot of water from the fireplace and emptied it into a cup. "He'll break down a bit, then be silent for a few days, then be back to his wise ass self until his anguish builds up again." Ludwig brought his water into the kitchen and watered down some of the sauce that was prepared earlier.

"Is there anything we can do?" Feliciano asked,

"What do you want me to do?" Ludwig's tone was low, frustrated with bitterness and pain. His wide back stiffened as he lowered his head. Feliciano's toes slid across the wood floor. His warm arms came around his friend's build and hands locked at the stomach. Ludwig did not move to either reject or accept Feliciano's affection, but rather let out a stressed unsteady breath. Feliciano's head leaned in against his spine.

**ooooooooooooooooo**

_More historical things in the next chapter which is a bit morbid and heavy._

_The heating situation in Germany directly after the war was not very pleasant. Bombs destroyed many homes and gas leaked largely into cities. Because of the low caloric intake of a German at the time, most of their body would be burning the energy to remain warm. Thus hypothermia, sickness and starvation killed many people. _

_Average calories directly after the war range from 500-1200 calories. Today's toddlers would need to eat 1300 calories to be healthy, to put it in perspective. After the first year it dropped to 1000 calories at most then spiked from 1000-1500 a day. Russian occupied zones varied as well but in general it was a constant 1500 calories. To compare, Jewish, non-Germans, POWs, etc. received anywhere from 2,000-2,500 calories a day. Military allies received 4,000+ calories and United state adult was well within the 3000+ calories a day. Germans survived on at most half the food of a non German.  
_

_Death rates were 3-5 times higher for adults and more than 10 times the death rate for children and 2 times infant death rate than other nations involved in the war. In one small sample area 10,000 German children were killed from being refused aid. We will deal with more death and crimes in the next chapter._

_Remember to review ^^ it speeds the process and lets me know if im on the right track. and also remember to vote on the poll I have up ^^_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer- **_dont own hetalia_

**Note**- _thank you for all the reviews ^^. as usual the grammar help is loved due to my lack of english skills. This chapter is a bit, eh, morbid. There will be only one other chapter intense to this degree._

**ooooooooooooooo**

There were shrills that rose from the shredded bits of steel and brick. The sky did not have clouds of vapor, but soiled ash and smoke that wrapped around Ludwig's lungs and strangled him. There was no scent, his nostrils were too caked with debris.

He walked along a street, slick with gas and liquids of unknown substance. His body flinched at every corner, waiting to be attacked. A infantile cry howled. He jumped, his chest puffed and a primitive roar gurgled from his throat. A blur fell past him and hit the ground, exploding unto him. His eyes stung and he growled as he turned away, desperately rubbing his face to rid of the substance. What had he been attack with? A bottle of wine? A gasoline bomb? He turned back to see.

What it was, he could not identify. It looked like fruit, like a melon perhaps. Gazing up he saw a man perched on a balcony.

"Hey!" He shouted up. His attacker's features remained cloaked, but he did not move. His silhouette the tell tale shape of an army man.

Another man joined him, his arms out. In his hands something squirmed. He reached out over the edge and dropped it onto the street. The creature cried to the ground where it was silenced and dissolved into a splatter. Another plummeted from the sky and fell next to him. The crimson juice sprayed up unto him. His blue iris widened as he looked down at the fruit that mauled him.

It was the fruit of his country, the sons and daughters of his people. Their bodies mutilating as they hit the stones. The infants rained down from the buildings, the dark figures laughing as their blood coated painted the cobbles.

"STOP IT!" Ludwig commanded. One held up an older child, perhaps a toddler. Smashing his body against the brick until the helpless being fell limp, then flung the lifeless corpse into the window, shattering the glass into a brilliant multicolored snow.

"NO, STOP IT!" He grabbed the nearest brick and hurtled it up at the killers. His arms were yanked back and his head met the warm puddle on the street. His spine was slammed with a sharp pain, a weight pinned him while his hair was yanked up. His neck strained, threatening to snap. His eyes rolled to the edges.

"Let him watch! Let him watch!" He heard from the back. A rough hand twisted his head. In front of him, the daughters of Germany were thrown up against the wall, surrounded by the enemy men. Their pleas shot from his ears into the pit of his gut. His body bucked and twisted beneath his captors in attempt to escape. Ludwig's blood shook in his veins from the vibrations of the cries. The skin of his palms shredded against the stones of the street as he fought to rise.

"Stop it! No! Please! NO!"

"You'll watch it! Watch as the people you tried to exterminate rape your daughters! The ones you once called allies throw your children from roofs! It's all your doing Ludwig," His skull slammed against the pavement.

"Your fault!" Slam

"NO,"

"Your fault!"

"It's not my fault! You're doing it!"

"YOUR FAULT" Slam slam slam

"NO! It was done to m-" Slam

"Everything is your fault," the voices whispered,

"NO!" Ludwig jolted up. His heart wrestled inside it's boney cell. His vision nothing but blackness. Damp sheets clung to his body, embracing him with a gentle coolness.

"Lu…Ludwig?" A soft voice called from his left. His mind began to soothe at the sound of that drowsy mutter. Ludwig's panting and harsh breath were the only sounds in the room. The familiar scent of his musky body odor and his roommate's fresh soaped flesh comforted him. He let his body fall back into the bed.

"Are you okay Ludwig?"

"Yes… I'm sorry Feli," He breathed. A soft hand brushed the muscles of his arm.

"You are so sweaty and warm… Go cool down," Feliciano gave a light shove, encouraging the man off the bed. The sticky sheets rebelled, clinging to his form. He let his body sloppily jog down the stairs into the kitchen. The window's jittered with a rough wind. The night was black from heavy clouds and the area was still. The cat moved in the shadows, startling Ludwig for a moment until his eyes took in the triangular ears. The animal's soft outline arched up and stretched from his curled position. Ludwig watched the cat who watched something outside the window, its head adjusting to the movement of its interest. A low growl came from its mouth and rose in pitch to a horrid shrill. The animal sprang from the window sill and ran past Ludwig, its coat barely brushing against his hot skin.

"Kitty, hey," He softly called after it, but the pet paid no heed to his master and disappeared into the blackness. Ludwig turned back to the window, the forest beyond its glassy lens was trembling with fear from the coming assault of the heavens. Nothing else however warranted the response from his cat. He shrugged, resolving his mind to the fact that the cat, who could see better than he, merely spotted a stray animal. Ludwig turned toward the living room and stretched his arms. His fingers gracing the archways as he entered the room.

Suddenly a sharp crack startled the German. He stood at attention, his arms up and ready to fight. The glass from the kitchen glistened in what little light was available and speckled about the floor. The rock that was thrown slammed into the far wall.

"Ludwig!" A worried call came from upstairs. The blond flew up the stairs, his palms against the wall. At the top he collided with a soft body.

"Ludwig what was that?" Without responding he pushed Feliciano aside and dove to the floor. His arms searched under his bed and brought from it a gun.

"Get in Gilbert's room," He ordered. Feliciano obeyed, fumbling with the knob before slamming the door closed. He turned to see Gilbert dragging himself from the bed and falling over the edge, his injured leg flopping to the side.

"Gilbert!" His arms struggled to lift up the mattress and he produced a small gun. Feliciano went to his side and propped him back up on the bed.

Ludwig braced against the railing and listened. Glass crunched and scattered underneath the feet of the intruders. His ears twitched as he tried to count them. The thumps of their boots spread out slightly. He heard the cabinets begin to open and the silverware clang against each other.

"השג את האוכל! לא לבזבז זמן" Ludwig felt his brows dip and his thumb clicked the cock of his gun. His back slid along wall, the darkness blinding him, the sounds of the invaders creeping closer. He ducked as low as possible and aimed at the bottom of the stair case, waiting for his pray to appear. Scurried feet ran toward the living room, his finger on the trigger, his eyes wide, blood pounding into his skull.

A shadow appeared and he pulled the trigger. The pop of the gun seized his heart beats for a moment. A gurgled cry immediately rose from man and he fell to the floor. His comrades ran to him but halted before the staircase. The wounded man began to crawl.

"Stay down and I will not shoot! Stay where you are!" The victim curled up and rolled over. Ludwig stood up took a step. A flash from the night blinded him, a vicious pop assaulted his ears. A hot stream of air graced his side and pounded into the wood behind him. Ludwig pounced, like a rabid animal his massive hands restrained the robber and pinned him to the ground. His comrades in turn piled unto the blond. The scavengers pecked at him with their nails and tore at his body. Arching his back, he reared up beneath the weight of his assailants and flung the bleeding man to the side. Bringing around his knuckles Ludwig made contact with a head and crushed it through the paneling. He heard the banging of feet running up the staircase.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted. The albino flinched. His senses focused on the sounds of the fight. He rose his pistol at the door. His mind counting the steps, estimating their appearance. He fired into the door, the wood blowing apart at the command of the lead. Gilbert quivered, the scent of gunpowder burning awakened a primal sense. His jaw clenched as he waited to hear if his enemy stammered back up.

"GET OUT! I WILL KILL YOU ALL! GET OUT!" A roar shook the innards of the brunette and the pale brother. Ludwig's voice growled with an animistic sneer. His lungs rolling like a lions would while guarding it's meal. The front door slammed open and Gilbert let out a breath.

ooooooooooooooooo

When the sun came up the damage could be seen. The window were completely ruined, glass glittering on the floor and across the counter tops. The blood from the intruder stained the wooden floors and streaked out the front. The bullet holes burned through the stairs and guest bedroom door. After Ludwig's scrutinizing eyes observed every bit of inventory, he determined the thieves got away with nothing but injuries. Gilbert had indeed landed rounds into the strange men however none were lethal.

Feliciano and Ludwig wasted no time when the sun peeked over the hills, suspiciously eyeing the little house. The glass was cleared by the Italian's swift hands and Ludwig sealed off the window. Now, instead of the kitchen having a view of the backyard, it was a view of half rotted wood and tarp.

"I am going to check on Gilbert," Feliciano said through the inner side of the wood. The hammering stopped for a moment, and grunt of approval was heard through iron nails that perched on the German's lips.

Gilbert had not stopped panting and panicking until morning. Now, his exhausted body lay on the bed but even in sleep his flesh wrinkled in pain. His pale features were twisted, mouth curled down, legs coiled and back arched. He looked like a stone, a powdery carving some demented artist decided to create. He was just a as stiff too. Feliciano's hand rested on his taut side, the muscles were so tense there was no give to them, no softness that would have remained in a healthy man. The pallet of whites and grays that made his body and shirt up were accented with flecks of red. His shoulders leaked from where the twine stitches woven into his hide. His stomach was always damp with a persistent yellowish glaze that his body insisted upon coating him with.

Feliciano felt his throat dry. Gilbert could never be described as a tender man. When the Italian thought back, there were few qualities outside of battle and leadership that would make the poor being likeable. But regardless of his intensity, he had always been kind to the darker haired man, even playful at points. His picking and agitation of his brother were all in good sportsmanship in the game of siblings. Gilbert had not hesitated a second to pull his weapon from his confines and protect his family, despite the agony he must have gone through yanking himself from the bed and falling to the harsh floor. The dying reflection of what was once one of the more passionate and loyal of Feliciano's friends made the image of the room distort. The warm salt tickled his eyelashes but he wiped it away.

oooooooooooooooo

"Fucking ass master! I will fucking slit open your stomach you touch me again!" The sound of glass shattering and a door slamming was evidence that Gilbert had again reached his threshold. Ludwig had attempted to help change his bandages, but his brother merely snapped his jaws like a mad wolf and wielded his jagged claws against the blond. From the other side of the door the retreating brother tried to reason with him.

"Do you want them to get infected?" He asked,

"Fuck you!"

"Gilbert, please! The will begin to get painful if left on too long."

"I don't care! Let infection sink in! Just let me die!"

"Gilbert!"

"Get the fuck away!" Another thump rattled the door. Ludwig sighed and paced for a moment. A shivering weeping came from the other side of the door, muffled by the fabric of a pillow. Ludwig touched the rough grain of the wood and peered through one of the bullet holes. His brother lay on his stomach, hands pulling at his hair and mouth into the bed. From the peep hole he waited, the lunch by his brother's side would eventually tempt his starving body. Guilt began to pinch his soul when that slender arm reached for his stew. He convinced himself it was for the better, Gilbert wouldn't know until it was over. His palms tightened went the felt the lumpy pills within his pocket.

It was not long before the silvery haired man was quiet, his breathing turned shallow, and arm fell limp over the side of the bed. The drugged man was promptly turned on his back by his younger brother. The butchered flesh that was sown together like some homemade doll divided the plains of his body. The stitching had been done poorly, infection trickled from the wounds like water from a well.

Ludwig worked fast, cutting the old twine that held his brother together and washing the wounds in a solvent. The acidic substance hissed in the crevasse of his cuts. New, fresh stitching sealed him closed properly. He knew, in his mind, this should not be done but the wounds were too deep, too infected already, he had to close them. A small tube acted as drainage, but other than that, Ludwig closed his brother tightly. The skin split with each poke of the needle, the thread bunching up the pale hide with every tug.

The quick hands had finished his chest and legs. With tender hands, he turned his brother over and began to work on his back. The sheets beneath him soaked with wetness and blood. The body beneath him was cold, as it always had been since his return. His mind wandered back to that day. Sitting in his ruin of a home, pacing the floor like taunted dog, worrying if his son would live or die. Feliciano's warm form was his personal heater that tethered him to reality. A valiant protector against the evil, like a infant's blanket would be. But nothing had prepared them for the knock that came upon their door that day.

Gilbert's lifeless body was in the snow, convulsing from the cold. Ivan perched over him with a grin on his face. All that the Slavic man said was that he had gotten everything he needed from the 'animal' and departed. Gilbert had slept for two weeks before showing any sign of consciousness, which was born from his dilated mouth with such volume it jolted Ludwig from his sleep. The constant screaming lasted another month, like a baby in invariable colic he cried until his body fainted from exhaustion. The past few weeks had not been bad, he had walked in his own way, the pain had dulled somewhat, and he had finally been able to speak. This stunt Ludwig was currently pulling, may have set all the progress back.

oooooooooooooooo

When Gilbert stirred from his drug induced stupor his voice assaulted the ears of his housemates with a pitch as sharp as nails. He had woken up to a body burning and reassembled into unfamiliar shapes. Neither his brother or the Italian responded to his cries of anguish. Only after hours of venting his pain through his dried and raw throat did he fall silent into his nest of blankets. His only entertainment besides the searing, tight, yanking at his wounds the new stitching provided was the changing colors of the sky. Flaring from brilliant oranges down to blackness.

After some time of exploring the mountain range of his closed wounds his rage dissolved. Yes, there was nothing like the feeling of your flesh and muscle being shifted back into position after being so mutilated. The landscape of his body had darkened, but the scent of puss and rot was gone. His body was clean, hair free of the sweat that had tied the strands together. A gratefulness began to infect his mind just as his brother slipped through the door.

The blond's arms were raised and ready to deflect any projectiles. But none came to beat him, not even a curse to thrash his conscious. Gilbert merely stayed quiet, his eyes to the ceiling, counting the defects in the beams. Ludwig set a glass of water and bowl of broth by his bedside. Inwardly, he hoped he could disappear into the hallway without a word from his brother. Savoring the lack of shouting between them, the moments of peace, despite the tension that shackled both men so intensely Ludwig thought he could drag his sibling around by it.

Ludwig was almost to the door, when Gilbert's lips parted and his chest shook as it expanded.

"Ludwig," The pale hand on the knob tensed,

"Yes?"

"…Thank you," He breathed, his face rigid. Ludwig turned, slightly astounded by his brother's words. Gilbert breathed through his nose,

"Now… Get out," The albino growled.

ooooooooooo

"Ve, nothing was shattered?" Feliciano asked,

"No… He seemed contained… Perhaps the medicine is still in his system." Ludwig figured as he sipped a glass of water. Feliciano sat at the kitchen table sorting papers and mail. The postman had been kind enough to store their mail and keep it protected from looters and those wanting a heat source. Most of the letters were useless, more valuable as fire starters.

"Oh, this one is from Roderich," Feliciano flicked it to the other side of the table where the large German's hands plucked it up and tore it open. His blue eyes marched along the writing and he sighed.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing… Roderich and Elizaveta are trying to establish communication with us. We've been so separated, even they are getting a raw deal from the allies…" Ludwig said,

"I thought he'd be livid at you," Feliciano laughed,

"He is, the rest of the letter is not to pleasant,"

"Oh…Well, what about Elizaveta?"

"Nothing from her, he only speaks of her…" He answered, "She is probably just as angry… if not more…"

"Why do they want to contact you then?"

"Because the politics of the occupation are effecting them as well, in many bad ways. I don't know what they want, I as useless as a chained calf at this point!" Ludwig balled up the paper in his hands and left it crippled on the table.

"Ludwig! Anymore broth?" Gilbert shouted from upstairs,

"Just a minute!" He called back, "Roderich demanded we meet soon, within the next week. So the next few days I will be cleaning and repairing the house as best I can… Could you… Look after Gilbert?" He asked. Feliciano's mouth parted, ready to comply with his friend's request but a twinge of hesitation yank his voice back into his throat. Cursing, beating, once innocent objects becoming projectiles, Gilbert was a difficult patient. But did Feliciano have much of a choice?

"Don't worry about Gilbert, he's soft for me," Feliciano said. Although just as aggressive, Gilbert did tone down his accuracy of blows with the Italian. Preferring to ignore the darker male than challenge him. Since he was immobilized however, his rage seemed to have built up.

"This house need so much work…"

"You can get a head start now, I'll bring Gilbert more food and be down to help you after," He said.

oooooooooo

With stealthy caution, the Italian cracked open the door and peered in. The vermillion eyes of the injured beast stared back at him, struggling to hide the agony and put forth a threatening presence. He failed to do so, and the small man pushed open the door with his hip. In his hands a bowl of broth and a glass of water. He set it down carefully by the bed.

"Did I hear something about Elizaveta?" Gilbert asked,

"Huh? Oh, yes… She and Roderich are going to meet with Ludwig,"

"Really? Did she say anything?"

"No, Roderich wrote the letter we received. I don't think Elizaveta had much to do with it," Feliciano said. Gilbert sigh and fell silent for a moment.

"Feli, if you could… get me some paper and a pen, and an envelope please?" His request was more of a demand, and Feliciano nodded. He looked over to the broth and water,

"Damn, you guys are trying to make me piss my brains out aren't you? Look at all this liquid!"

"Ve… Well if you need help-"

"I'm big enough to reach the chamber pot, you know it, but it would be much easier if it wasn't across the room." He said,

"Ludwig though it would be nasty to have you smelling urine all the time."

"I rather smell urine than call each time I need to piss… Bring it here," He commanded. Feliciano did as he was told. Ludwig had made sure that the pot was always clean, but refused to dispose of anything besides urine. For that, a trip to the bathroom was a daily venture which Gilbert resented. His brother's ways were as humiliating to him as they were logical in function.

When Feliciano set the pot near the bed Gilbert flipped off his sheets and began to pull down his pants.

"Need he-"

"No, I am not useless. Unless you want to marvel at my size leave me be."

**ooooooooooooooo**

_Historic info:_

_in Berlin, but in other places as well, allied and in particular Russian soldiers threw the babies of Germans out windows and off buildings. Reports are fairly consistent from all sides that state a majority of the women of the city were raped, multiple times and around the country. After reprimand from Russia the numbers declined slightly. _

_Although many former prisoners could get free food and aid from Russia or other allies, many choose to go on their own. Germans had bare bone ratios and little or nothing to live on so their only defense was hostility. Many prisoners killed and stole from the now widowed or unguarded women and children in order to survive. Many admit to killing but some do also admit raping, in far less numbers than allied troops however. Almost every first hand account will state that stealing was the only way to get by at times. Because of the lack of resources, I personally feel it mattered little who anyone stole from, everyone was against everyone else in this particular point in time, although many could recieve free food from Russia or America I too would be very wary because a short time ago it was they who were inflicting arm against them.  
_

_hmmm, where will i go? PruXhun, hunXaus, Pru on top of Aus on top of Hun? who knows?  
_

_Next chapter is a tad more fluffy and will continue to get lighter._

_by the way that hebrew is probably totally wrong, I fully admit I have no knowledge of Hebrew language besides shalem. It "should" roughly translate to: get the food, don't waste time. If you know how it should be written please, send it to me and I will revise it.  
_

_if you would like R&R ^^ it lights a fire under my lazy ass.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**- _dont own it_

**Note-** _Ok, i start pulling back the reins here and get into more.. eh.. nicer? topics. Well, much less heavy at the very least ^^. thank you for all the reviews and dont forget to vote on my poll for the story._

**oooooooooooooooo**

With calloused hands and dishelmed hair, Ludwig labored away to conceal the indecent exposure of his home. The days had passed and the progress was slow. Sacrificing his sleep and meals the man began to weaken. His eyes ignored the need to focus and his pupils slacked from exhaustion. The iron tipped tool he wielded smashed into his supporting hand on occasion, making him jolt and his tongue flick strings of curses into the air. His left hand became dark with internal wounds and the bits of bandages no longer aided his body.

During this same time, Feliciano took on the role of housekeeper and nurse. He could make a hearty soup from air, love and dirt. The meager supplies bestowed upon him became no challenge to work with. His food was still delicious and bright. His days revolved around Gilberts care, gardening, cooking, and cleaning. A mundane routine that he mastered quickly. His face was always bright, eyes clear and shining with a persistent gleam of content.

Today was the day, the arrival of Roderich and Elizaveta. Ludwig polished up his last patch jobs. He had finished the support system of the weakened home but it was still flashing it's parts for all to see. A canvas tarp bandaged the home's organs. Fresh wood dust powdered the new floor which had taken days to craft from the logs that blond ox harvested from the forest. The home was better, cosmetically. Ludwig now faced the task of making himself presentable, as did Feliciano.

Ludwig wet his hair and combed it back into his usual style. His haggard face reflecting in the mirror. His eyes wore bibs of grey and his one brilliant eyes were glossed with the desire to sleep. His face blossomed with golden fields of stubble that grew along the hills of his cheeks and chin. Large fingers foamed up a soapy wall over his features. With shaky hands he took the straight razor to his cheek. It hissed on his flesh, in its wake leaving a smooth patch of pallid skin. It had taken Ludwig some time to master the art of shaving himself with such a large blade. Most men had someone else do this for them, rather than spend time stropping, cleaning, and prepping the blade. He shaped his side burns down to an acceptable length. His stray beard hairs that attempted to hide beneath his chin and neck were swiftly decapitated. A splash of fresh water finished the job. The coolness of the liquid stung against the one side of his chin. He had cut himself.

The red slice marred his perfection, and he pinched it shut with frustration. His brows dipped as he did his best to make the wound clot clear.

"Ludwig? Are you finished?" That gentle voice echoed off the tiles walls and into his ear.

"Yes, come in," He responded as he rinsed the blade off.

"Ludwig, your chin," Feliciano had not been in the room longer than a second before he noticed. Was the sliver of blood that noticeable or was he that observant? Ludwig wondered, but his thoughts halted when the other man's warm hand came to rest against his face. The smell of the other's breath tickled his nose and filled it with the fragrance of mild spices. Despite the fact that Ludwig had already treated the minor cut he allowed his friend to tend to him. The olive tones fingers curled around a damp wash cloth and whisked away the fluids he oozed. While up close, the German took the opportunity to observe his roommate.

Since the war ended, Feliciano had changed. His body was no longer saddled with the burden of a nation, thus he lack sores and the scars that would mark his brother. The first winter had been difficult, the man was gangly and stumbled around the home. Now that the warmth had bathed this side of the planet, his body had gained back substance instead of shivering it away. His flesh had a glow, his hair shined despite its lack of consistent washing. His odor, the natural one, had returned after being smothered by gas, dirt, and grime. His perfect lips parted and pearly teeth grasped his tongue in concentration as he cared for his friend.

Ludwig felt the blood rush to opposite ends of his body. His face contracted and brows lifted. His throat held his breath hostage, refusing it to his tensed lungs. The muscle in his ribcage retaliated, shoving it's weight around until it hit his stomach which in turn doubled over with a queasiness. It was an unpleasant and strange feeling, but not completely undesirable. Finally, Ludwig's chest expanded and his body functions began to settle.

"You okay?" Feliciano question as he noticed the colors of his friend's face change.

"Just fine… Thanks… I'll leave you be," He excused himself, ignoring his overreaction and blaming it on his nervousness for the coming meeting.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Ludwig set the table with drinks he had artfully made from scratch. He took some of the mint he stole from the forest and crushed it in each of the four glasses. A pinch of dried lemon rind would hopefully flavor the water. This preoccupied him while Feliciano sat them down. The mix of voices, one soft and cheery, the other deep and monotone, the last only chirped with a higher pitch but a melancholy musical tone. Feliciano was attempting to make small talk, but judging from the lack of response, he was failing.

Then a saving grace cried from the stairwell.

"Fucking goat pussy licker! That hurt so FUCKING bad!" Ludwig took his chance, bolting to the stair case, only to be shoved back by a small hand on his chest. At first, the ruffled dress and locks of brown did not register with him. Then, that familiar stomping, the air of sudden aggression that filled the room.

"Elizaveta! Wait!" Feliciano called after her but she did not halt.

"We are in the middle of a meeting! This is highly unortho-"

"Shut it Roderich!" She barked down at him. She flung open the door, the light from the room shone down the stairs.

"What the f-" The door slamming cut off Gilbert. There was stillness as the parties down stairs leaned into the stairwell to eavesdrop.

She stood proudly at the foot of the rickety bed, her thin arms folded across her chest. Her dark eyes were hard and traveled the ways of Gilbert's mutilated form. As she made her way down from his half bandaged face to the legs black from bruising, her taut face slackened.

"Oh, Gilbert…"She breathed. She had expected to charge in and be greeted by an onslaught of insults and excuses to his weakened state. As he had always been in the past with his defeats. But the man stayed quiet, the life in his uninjured eye was absent and merely looked like a red marble mauled by a child's overuse. Was he little more than a child's toy to Ivan not long ago? When her shoulder's slacked his attention was caught.

"What is wrong?" His tone was slightly reprimanding.

"Gilbert…"

"Come on, sit down," He braced his upper body and shifted the dead weight of his legs over slightly. The bed moaned beneath her weight and conformed to her hips as she sat.

"Did you get my letters?" He asked, "I made Feliciano promise to mail them, he better have come through."

"Yes, I did… But I did not open them." She said,

"Why?"

"Because you are usually such an asshole and my life doesn't need to get more complicated." She said this in a casual tone, which made the pale haired man chuckled softly.

"I am, aren't I?" He sighed, "But those letters are not asshole-ish… You don't have to read them if you do not want too." She paused and looked down at her lap for a moment. A strange tension filled the air and Gilbert quickly broke the silence.

"How are things?"

"Horrid…" She said,

"Speak,"

"You don't want to know…"

"Elizaveta…"

"You are such a lucky bastard you that?" She choked, "Ivan returned you… Look at me… I'm under his control. He doesn't care what happened to Hungarians, he just wants what usefulness my country has to offer. Slave labor, resources, my country is nothing but a whore to him." Gilbert swallow and bit his tongue, pressing his irking rage down. "They did the same thing to us as they did to your brother's country… Raped the women and children, he placed hundreds of thousands in death camps… And I am powerless to stop him. I have no control whatsoever."

"…He hasn't hurt you has he? I mean, hurt Elizaveta,"

"No, he's left me be…"

"Then it's his boss calling the shots with Hungary… Ivan and I had a personal vendetta against each other. Us as people, not just nations. Hungary is just another country he can satellite, Elizaveta is just a woman." She snorted at his reasoning, "Think about it and be grateful. Someone can come to rescue you, help you, break Hungary free again. Hell, your people may do that… But if you haven't noticed, Ivan isn't too shy about exacting his revenge or being brutal. If he wanted to harm you, he would've by now… He would have done to you what he did to me…" Gilbert took a deep breath, "And if he ever does lay a hand on you I will rip out his balls tie them in a knot and shove them into his stomach." A weak smile cracked her face.

"I'd like to do that too,"

"We can make it a date." Now both were smiling, lightly. Gilbert's stomach added it's thoughts and he leaned over to the night stand were his morning broth lay. His bandaged fingers stretched to their limits to reach the bowl of nutrition. A healthier hand grasp the broth and handed it the man. His weak arms shivered beneath its weight. He set it in his lap and his wasted muscles strained to bring the spoon to his mouth. The liquid trembled off the utensil and soaked into the sheets.

"Here," She said, her fingers curled around the handle of the spoon and submerged it in the liquid food. She brought to his mouth, his chapped and ashen lips parted and pink tongue eagerly excepted its bath in the golden fluid. She fed him and he submitted to her and his limitations, although he had denied his brother and Feliciano the obedience he showed to her. Perhaps it was because she would win in a fight without feeling guilty, perchance her own selfishness ached to try and help something, or maybe it was simply that Gilbert felt good when tended to by a woman he liked. Neither pondered their reasons for long and instead kept their thoughts at bay to think of more superficial things, like what to eat for dinner or when to change bandages.

"So… How's that little boy of Ludwig's doing?" She asked,

"…He is still in the hospital," He said,

"Is he getting better?"

"No,"

"He's a cute little thing, he looks so much like your family." She said,

"Well, my good looks are dominate."

"Isn't he your brother's child?"

"Same thing," He said,

"Yea, sure Gilbert…"

"My brother… He doesn't want to admit it but with Leos so ill and wounded he is a wreck. I didn't think my brother would be so swift to bond with the boy. I thought for sure I'd come visit and Leos would be a little solider… Things will not be normal until the nation is returned to its people…"

"What are you rambling on about? Did you hit your head too many times?"

"No, you hit my head too many times. With that damn pan!"

"You were being a prick!"

ooooooooooooooo

"OWW," The yelp was heard down the stairs. Feliciano was the only one to turn his head. Ludwig and Roderich merely sighed and waited for the stomping feet of the Hungarian woman to reach the ground floor. No one questioned her, they all could image a plausible reason as to why she was in a rage, anyone could guess Gilbert had begun to push her tolerance.

"That fucking stuck up little bastard! He can be so sincere but then he has to have a rectal relapse of some sort and be a fucking ass!" Elizaveta exclaimed. Roderich stood up, excusing himself with a gentle nod and went to the furious woman's side.

"I have taken care of what needs to be done here while you were upstairs. So if you wish, we can leave." He spoke softly, as if to conceal his words from the others. Ludwig set down his cup and rose to greet and bid farewell to Elizaveta.

Her eyes furiously combed over the man that approached her. His stance and way of moving perfectly trained into his brain. The air around him, though void of threat, still carried an awkward feeling. His stoic face cracked, his forehead wrinkled as his brows lifted the flesh on his face. With all the apologetic expression he could must he look at her and parted his lips.

The sped in which his head was slammed in another direction shocked him. His mind had not comprehended what happened and he stood frozen in his confusion. The red skin on the side of his face stung. The sound of the slap was not heard by Ludwig until moments after the event. Feliciano and Roderich tensed. Ludwig was not a man to be shoved around or abused so easily, but he also had manners and chivalry. Roderich wondered if he would strike her back, Feliciano waited for a roar of insults that would make the earth shake. But none of those fantasies came to be. Instead, Ludwig had fallen silent, accepting his beating. He submitted to her rage, waiting to see if she was hit him again. She did not. She left his house with Roderich in her wake.

**ooooooo**

_by the way, that drink i described sucks, only drink it if your desperate for flavor._

_Gilbert's vulgarity is actually going to become a bit of an important thing so pay attention, I am not making him do it just for laughs._

_Hungary becomes a satellite ruled by Russia who did mostly the same things to them as they did to the Germans. Unlike Germany, who is occupied by multiple nations at the time, Russia pretty much has Hungary to themselves. _

_If you like R&R_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer-** _dont own hetalia_

**Note**-_ Sorry it has been so long. Classes are up and I have tons of work. This chapter is short but these events had to happen to get the ball rolling down the hill. Anyway. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. ^^_

**ooooooooo**

Ludwig held his cheek for a moment, staring at the back of the closed door. He hadn't even gotten to say hello to her, barely looked at her face. He knew the urge to beat on him must have been tempting for everyone, regardless of his portion of responsibility at the time. His fingers had twitched and demanded that the shackling nerves, that chained them down out of chivalry, release them and put the maiden back in line. But his manners would not yield to such instinct and that is when his eyes widen in realization.

He could never again hold his own. He would never be able to rise up and defend himself or others. Anyone could come and beat on him, yank the teeth from his mouth, tear his hair to the scalp, anything they so pleased. The moment he would retaliate, they would shove his sins in his face. Add to the crushing weight on his back and pin him to the floor. The voices whispered in skull, echoing from side to side before bouncing down his spine,

"_Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_ The chanted in a childish riddle,_ "Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_

No

"_Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_

I didn't want too

"_Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_

Stop it

"_Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_

SHUT UP!

"_Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful. Your fault. Murderer. Genocide. Hateful."_

"FINE!"

"Ludwig?" Feliciano's voice diluted the ringing lullaby in his head and the room, which had faded without his realization, began to saturate with color once more.

"Ludwig… Are you okay?" The smaller male asked.

"I'm fine… Sorry if I had an outburst there…"

oooooooooooooo

Though Feliciano was, as well as Ludwig, instructed to reduce all calls unless to answer someone or for official business the Italian swiftly violated this rule. He waited, like a cat at the borrow of a rat, for Ludwig to leave the home or be far enough outside that he would not be caught. Ludwig had let him call his brother, it could be excused as official business. Besides, Feliciano was no longer a member of their ranks, so the tanner man jumped to the conclusion he did not need to heed their warnings. Further motivating his secrecy was what and who he was calling for.

His slim fingers curled around the dial. The naturally load gears chugging back and forth with every number. He tried to be quiet, to avoid Gilbert's sharp hearing. When being directed he mumbled softly into the phone. His eyes dodging every which way to make sure he was not being watched. After some connections to the operators he was set down on the desk of a secretary to hold. His ears only heard the pounding of his blood, his hands slippery with sweat. Only when the voice of a man echoed through the line did Feliciano snap into attention.

"Yes, I know it has been a while… I have a big favor to ask… I understand… Yes your holiness… Well, I am in Germany and the citizens are being outright slaughtered. I was wondering if there was any aid I could get for the children or people as far as food… I am well aware of that… Yes… Do you really think that will happen?... Of course… Will they?... Honestly?... Oh, thank you! I will, I will! Yes, and also with you!"

"Who are you thanking?" The deep voice startled Feliciano, the ebony phone leapt from his hand sand he scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor. Desperately he grasp the cord which cause it to sway and slam into his knee. Frustrated with his own clumsiness he slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

"L-Ludwig, I thought you went to pick up flour," Ludwig crossed his arms,

"As usual, none to be found… Who were you calling? It's my skin if the phone is used for other purposes other than official business." Ludwig lectured,

"Well, I was calling an old friend… He is going to help Ludwig out."

"Someone is willing to help me?" Ludwig's tone was slightly sarcastic. Looking up at the blonde it was more than understandable. The poor creature had been giving poison with the label of aid taped on it. When he wouldn't take that aid himself his face was crushed into it. The bags around his eyes aged him. The muscles the once filled in a proud and strong jaw line were slack and made his face appear far more feminine that it should.

"It is aid from the Vatican. They said they will send some food. They will ship it by sea from the west, all they need to do is dock at the north western most port. Then they can distribute it where it is needed." Ludwig went still.

"…Your serious aren't you?" Ludwig asked,

"Ve… I thought that would make Ludwig happy," The Italian's face fell and his shoulders slumped.

Without warning, large, powerful claws seized the lithe man around the arms. He panicked at first, tensing, but then a gentle and warm pair of lips brushed the side of each cheek. The vice grip snaked around his back and pulled Feliciano into a fraught embrace.

"Thank you… Thank you Feliciano… Thank you…"

ooooooooooooo

Ludwig fumbled with the buttons of his suit. His larger, calloused, hand now struggled with the petite metal disks. Today was his meeting with his bosses. His body ran on auto-pilot while his mind treaded the deep options available. He hadn't noticed Feliciano's good bye or his brother agonizing cry. He was silent the entire ride to the building that rose from the skeletal remains of the capital. His sense registered nothing until he sat at the long table. Ludwig's flesh began to burn, the threads in his shirt scratching him. The nations stared him down like vultures watching a deer limp.

At first they talked to only amongst themselves and ignored Ludwig. Finally after some hushed discussion the four turned to him.

"We are sending more of you to the camps." Russia spoke in a slightly giddy tune his natural accent bestowed upon him. Ludwig swallowed,

"Please," Ludwig pleaded,

"What? You made other work as forced labor. Why can I not?" He smiled,

"Ivan, please! They have-"

"What? Families? Children? What do you care? You will suffer just as we have and just as others!" England reprimanded.

"You are supporting this England?"

"We all are," France answered, "You citizens and soldiers will bare our loads now, do you really think we would put our own people to death by doing _those_ jobs?"

"I want control of my country back!" Ludwig demanded,

"Only when you bend to our will," America and Russia answered simultaneously. There was a tension fill silence as both men glared at each other from the corner of their eyes. Russia broke the grip they had on each other and turned back to Ludwig.

"Well Ludwig, it appears as if you must first decide which of us to lean on. Let us face it, there is no way you could not suckle from one of us, you would be over taken and Germany would seize to exist. So, what shall it be?" Russia asked,

"Now hold on! Almost all of Germany is occupied by Democratic countries so obviously the minority should be overruled." England interjected,

"But is it not the strongest country that should rule it? Surely I have proven myself. Ludwig appreciates the strong, not the weak like America." Russia says,

"Hold on a minute Red." America hissed, "I fought on all sides and came out a victor. Not only that but my production of weapons for the war was immense!"

"But you are baby country. What can you offer a new Germany?" Russia smirked,

"Wait now there are two others here!" England said,

"England, your cities are in ruin, you need to focus on yourself." Russia spoke sweetly.

"What about my people!" Ludwig growled.

"What about them?" France asked,

"They need aid!"

"Who would aid Germany?" Russia asked, a touch of sincerity in his voice.

"… Feliciano was speaking to the Vatican, they have resources in south America and are will to give my people food. They would need to get into the northern ports, on the American side." Ludwig looked to American.

"No, I will not let them access the ports."

"But,"

"No, we are in control here! You will not go over our heads then ask we give way to your tyranny!" American barked,

"Tyranny? You pig, you have no idea what a traitor is! You have not the slightest concept!"

"Don't I?"

"No! You sit there on your white horse, claiming justice and virtue but look! You will not give a hungry child food! You will use the backs of civilian men, women and children for your labor! You are sending them to camps just as that _Tyrant_ did! You are on his same path and with your inexperience it would not surprise me if decades from now YOU would be declared the murderer of the world!"

"Silence! Ivan, get him out of here! He has lost the privilege of being here!" England commanded,

"That won't be necessary," Ludwig stood up and bulled through the door. The four men left in the room were quiet for a moment to ease the tension. America stood stiff in his seat and stared down at the table with injured pride. France and England politely ignored his expression of guilt but Russia was no such kind predator.

"Don't let his words manipulated you, you are so young and have so much to learn yet. A few people will not matter in the long run."

oooooooooooooo

"They didn't accept the food? It's free aid! They have nothing to do with it! Did they consider how hard it was for me to get communication to the Vatican?" Feliciano half ranted and half sighed in frustration. His soul was settled after he had established some aid for the Germans, a repentance for his sins in the war. But the swift spear of cruelty hurled at them impaled the hope they had. Ludwig was restless when he returned, anger brewing in the pit of his stomach. A scatter of glass made the Italian retreat to the farthest corner of the couch, cradling his head. An incomprehensible string of curses were shrilled from the German's mouth. A cry of agony made Feliciano snap into attention.

Ludwig held his hand, slashed open with a glistening stream of liquid ruby flowing from his fingers.

**oooooooooooooo**

_The US and other allied powers pushed all German charity groups down and forbade them from helping. Outside help was denied as well. This event in particular was when the U.S. denied entry for food meant for German infants that was given to Germany by the Vatican._

_During this time, tension between the US and Russia is high, as the form of government to be set up is in debate. _

_After the war, Germans were imprisoned in camps and many were just executed. Entire German families were sent to the camps, not just men. They were worked doing mostly suicide jobs, such as clearing mine fields. Large numbers of US soldiers shot Germans, even those who were not involved in mass killings or military. Essentially, they were abusing them then trying to get them to agree to democracy or Communism. As times passes the treatment of Germans shift slightly. _

Reviews let me know how much demand there is ^^.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer- **dont own hetalia

**Note-** sorry its been so long, I am taking extra classes and the work load is pretty heavy. In addition, I am moving over the next few months so I will try hard to work on this story. It's going to start getting sweeter and lighter from here.

**ooooooooooooo**

The wound in Ludwig's hand was mostly healed by the time he went to borrow the postman's car. Feliciano had learned to mend flesh like one would mend cloth. His hand had been split open but not to a crippling degree. Ludwig himself felt great shame that he had lost control and place more of a burden on the Italian, who pack on the troubles of the world like a mule and trotted forward beneath the crushing weight. So here Ludwig found himself alone in the postman's car. Feliciano insisted he get out for at least one day to be with his son. Feliciano, of course, wished to join him but Gilberts immobilization made that impossible. The smaller male suggested it would mean more if father and son were left to talk alone and cheerfully encouraged his companion.

Ludwig, however, fretted the whole way to the hospital. Every bad scenario raced through his head, lewd thoughts and perverse ideas of what could happen to them bloomed in his mind. His brain didn't concentrate on the road until he came to the town he had been down weeks before with Feliciano.

It had changed. He felt eyes upon him, though there were no people about to stare. The horses that were tied off to hitching posts seemed thinner, their wagons warn and scuffed from abuse. No laundry hung from the windows or balconies, the flag of occupancy, which was now dangerous. The enemy had finally came through and although it did not appear burned or bullet marred the taste of fear marinated the air. What tender people the villagers once were, now were spoiled and bitter. As Ludwig slowed his car to an acceptable speed a familiar sight came from around the corner.

Two small chestnut drafts with ears pinned back and mouths chopping at the bit. The wagon was peeled and chipped of paint, as if deliberately done. The older gentleman sat above his steeds with a whip in one hand and the reins in the other. The horses were thinner now, so was their driver. The once shinny coats of the beasts now dull and rubbed raw from scratching. The old man did not sit straight, but slacked his reins and allowed his horses far too much control. Ludwig passed them slowing, though the horses seemed too broken to spook. Tuffs of glowing Marks fluttered in the wind, money turned tinder for cooking, and brushed against both man and animal. Neither flinched. Ludwig now understood the reason they had accepted money when nothing else could be offered. But even the mounds of useless paper would quickly be depleted for fire, food, and warmth.

ooooooooooooooo

When Ludwig arrived at the hospital he took a moment to appreciate the grandeur of the former inn. It must have been a place the elite had enjoyed. Whoever left it to a charitable doctor had done well with their estate. The world went past Ludwig as he entered, checked in and climbed the stairs. He heard the cries of infants and high pitched voices of children from beyond the heavy doors of the ward.

The room blinded him for a moment, it's brightness far exceeded the halls. The figures darkened from the light and took form. The scent of wounds, paper, bandages, glue, and peroxide was the perfume of the ward. The tall windows provided a pleasant warmth to the room, some even open slight.

Ludwig had always tried to not look at other children while there, but he had consistently failed. There were always new children and infants. One boy with a missing arm and burned chest leaned on his good arm to read a book. A girl who's limbs were confined to casts was being fed by a nurse. Another boy was sobbing as the bandages were changed for his eye. And in the corner, blocked off by curtains, was the little section Leos would be sleeping in.

"Sir, are you ok?" Ludwig flinched at the voice,

"Yes, I'm fine," He answered. His body quivered and skin went cold. He brushed aside the curtains and entered his own world.

oooooooooooo

Leos was still asleep, resting in his nest of white sheets. The father leaned his knee unto the flimsy mattress, towering over the child. He let his body swallow the boy, limbs consuming the fragile body and cheek nestling cheek. The pallid son was surprising warm to the touch and this made Ludwig's heart swell. He sighed laid beside his son while looking out the window and over the hillside scenery. His eyes wild and shimmering as the sun's rays caressed the watery pools of iris. His forearm protectively over his progeny and jaw slightly flexed, baring his bottom teeth against some invisible enemy. His pride returned to him, and like a lion over his cub he radiated a dangerous aura. With another deep breath his chest rumbled as he settled his head by Leos'. He inhaled the scent of his hair and gently rubbed circles into his boy's hand.

"It's papa," Ludwig said, "I have missed you horribly… I am trying very hard to regain control over the country, so that is why I am not here as often. They fight over control as if our people are nothing but meat. I don't want you to be in such a world… Feliciano is really helping out your uncle and I. I feel so in debt, I can't possibly repay Feliciano… Italy the country however still has a lot to repent for, I think that is my fear… That Feliciano will be singled out for being Italian… They are just doing the same things over again… They didn't learn…" Ludwig took a shaky breath. "Leos… There is a beautiful country outside your window… But I am not going to lie any longer to you. The villages are in ruins, the town is destroyed. There is a majestically crippled world to wake up too, but for the sake of God please open your eyes. I know its selfish to bare such weight on a sick child, but it would bring me such joy and peace… P-please… Open your eyes… God please, bring him back to me! My little son, please…"

Ludwig let the water drain from his eyes for hours. Leos lay silent. The only disturbance was from the nurse who checked his vitals. After the sky began to tint Ludwig felt himself drifting into unconsciousness but was stirred by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, there is a call for you at the front desk." A feminine voice chirped. He quickly rose from his vulnerable position and followed the nurse to the desk. The cord stretched taught over the counter and Ludwig rested the black piece against his ear.

"Beilschmidt,"

"Ludwig," Feliciano's voice cracked through the line.

"Feli, is something wrong?"

"No, but I did turn on the radio. They are warning us of a huge storm. It would be wise not to drive home."

"Oh, alright Feli, thank for the warning…"

"Where will you stay?"

"I guess I can try and stay somewhere in the town. If it is that bad I can sleep in the car." Ludwig said,

"…Alright, be safe."

"You too, Feli…" Ludwig waited to hear the click on the other end of the line before setting down the phone.

"They won't accept you," He looked up at the nurse who sat scribbling on a pile of paperwork.

"Excuse me?"

"The villagers… They won't take any outsider in. German or not." Ludwig held breath closed his eyes. Of course they would not take him.

"The car it is then…" He said,

"You can stay here… I can't offer you food unless someone does not eat their ration but you can sleep in the same space with whoever it is you are visiting." She said,

"… Thank you," His worn face turned away. He was happy about staying but his body was too weak to express gratitude. Ludwig's emotions had perforated the reservoir of energy tucked away in some corner of his body. With ankles shackled in fatigue he pulled himself up the staircase and back unto the ward.

The blond man felt powerful when he laid back down. His arm possessively over his child and chin onto his tiny skull. He thought of violence, briefly. That he would protect and hold his child until they ripped him from his rotting dead hands. Ludwig gazed over the white tipped teeth of the earth and saw thick blackness roll over the edge. Lightening flickering like a short wire made the ebony sky glow. The tall panes shivered in their frames against the breath of the heavens. The nurses took long poles and shut the windows. The sound of children being herded back to their rooms and the clang of plates and silverware. The hall was quiet.

The nurse who entered the room did not bring a bottle or plate for Leos. Instead a rubber bag and tub was coiled in her hands.

"Is that for my son?" He asked,

"Yes, sir," She said, "I will need you to move." She added. His tired bones creaked as he rose and gave way to her. Quickly she eased the tube up his nostril and down into his stomach. Working the rubber bag, a milky fluid was pressed into his body. The boy had no reaction. His tiny stomach ballooned when full and the caretaker pulled out the tube and left. Ludwig returned to the bed and burrowed beneath the covers. Warming the fragile being beside him he went back to watching the progressing storm.

The sky had turned black and the wind rasped the glass. The gods growled and tumbled in the sky, the floors vibrating from their cries. The veins of heavens flashed open and bled from the blackness to the earth. Ludwig watched his son, a loud crack of thunder painfully echoed into his ears. He flinched but beneath his arms Leos twitched and stiffened. He gazed down at the boy who was still quiet. The distress of the storm however was causing his body to react. Ludwig held him tighter and closed his eyes.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, papa's here." He whispered. His thick throat vibrated against the small body as he inhaled began a soft tune. It was these twitches and jerking movements that occasionally provoked Leos which kept Ludwig's hopes alive. He was not some shell of flesh, but his boy merely resting from the burden placed on his back. Ludwig sang just above a whisper. A war song with an uplifting tune that returning soldiers would weep to as they saw their wives or children. He remembered it as so. When returning men under his command would break formation to embrace their little daughter or young fiancé. He never scolded his men for this, but watched. Until his newly adopted family was around he would be a lonely spectator to these men.

Leos' tension faded and his stiff, thin, muscles curled back into their natural places. His father continued to sing softly, thinking it was the only true favor he could do him in deep slumber. He kept his lullaby up as long as he could while watching the storm brutalize the mountains. The creaking and moaning of trees and crack of severed branches falling to the ground. Eventually, the war nature pitted against the mountainous region settled and Ludwig rested his head.

ooooooooooooooo

In the early morning when the sky bleed from its war wounds from its nightly battle, Ludwig awoke and stretched his limbs. Everything was tinted with the sunrise glow, and the pale hair of Leos took on a red hue. He smile and kissed his forehead.

"I must go son. Please wake up… You can come home with me, and Feli, and Papa Prussia… I love you." He squeezed the gangly hands underneath his massive paws and gave one lack tuck in of the sheets before twist his body to slide from the bed.

"Ow," A squeak came from beneath Ludwig's feet and he quickly recoiled. A small toddler wriggled away. Beyond him was a mass of sleeping children who had bed down for the night. Ludwig felt the flesh beneath his eye twitch.

"Wa… What is this?" He questioned loudly. The curtains parted and a nurse stepped through the rousing patients.

"I apologize this is my fault sir. They heard you with your son and I noticed them gravitating toward you. I know I should've shooed them back but these kids rarely shut their lips. Always crying in pain and stress. They were finally quiet and sleep through the night." She had an accent, that someone of British descent might have, but not the proper musical tones. Perhaps faking her true tongue. Ludwig questioned it no more though.

"It is fine, so long as the boy was not hurt. I must leave now but I thank you for giving me shelter in through the storm." He said.

"I should be thanking you. I am the only one on staff for the night in charge of the children. I am so overwhelmed that I was delighted to see them all be silent…It should help them recover, a good night sleep… You are the father of Leos, yes?" She asked,

"Indeed,"

"He's got those striking eyes. And that pale hair…" She looked somber for a moment at Leos and then smiled again.

"Can I ask you a question? About Leos?" Ludwig spoke just loud enough for her to hear.

"Of course sir,"

"What are the chances of him actually waking up? What is happening to him?" He asked.

"Well, I am sure you know the burn was in the 4th degree. That is usually a degree of those who die by flames. It burned into the bones of his chest and collar which caused massive fluid loss and shock as well as the pain. It must still be painful, we saw that the wound must have been infected several times before. His weakened body is having trouble pulling out of his coma. Not to mention the medication we need to keep him on would probably put a man to sleep quickly. His body is constantly fighting but until it can fight unassisted he needs the medicines."

"So if he was off these medicines he would wake up?"

"No, he needs to gain weight and energy. He needs to stop loosing so much fluid, get his blood pressure to a safe level and other things before he is likely to wake…"

"…Do you think he will pull through?"

"…" The nurse's chest rose and fell slowly. "I have seen many people become bones and pull through… But not a child like this. With this injury. We have a lot of children who were starved or starving. But injury killed them, they don't heal… Leos has gotten this far, but… It is just not something I or the doctors can predict." She said. Ludwig nodded,

"Thank you again for the shelter,"

oooooooooooooo

_**Notes**- uses for the Mark after WWII include- mattress stuffing, tinder, toilet paper, coat warmer, bedding, insulation. You could still buy things but you either needed a lot or be purchasing from someone who accepted it. More often, cigarettes, rations, clothing, jewelry, livestock and raw goods like wool or wood were far more valuable. _

Probably the last bits of historical things will happen and then I am setting the history to rest for a long time.

if you like r&r ^^ lets me know the demand. There are 2 polls available to vote, so cast while you can.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer- **i dont own hetalia

**Note-** This is just a quickie chapter to get needed details out of the way. Gerita shall begin :]. also, new poll up, please vote. thank you for all the wonderful reviews. Remember that review=demand and demand is motivation for me.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

When Ludwig returned Feliciano had happily joined his side with a wide smile. The troubles of the world bounced from his round cheeks. Ludwig immediately sighed in relief when he saw the Italian was in once piece. Feliciano wrapped around him, snaking between his arms. Placing his palm on the brunette's hair the German returned the gesture. For a moment they stayed quiet, but silence had little place in Feliciano's world.

"I am glad you did not drive and are safe Ludwig." He spoke into his clothed chest so Ludwig would barely make out his words.

"I am pleased you are safe too," He responded, "Did Gilbert do alright?"

"He is fine, but restless… How was Leos?" Blue eyes cast down.

"He is twitching more, but still completely under… It looks like it will still be a while." He said. In Ludwig's stomach what felt like an iron ball began to jostle and a feeling of awkwardness came from their touch. The taller pulled away from the smaller. The smaller then frowned and watched his friends back wrestle off a coat and boots.

"Gilbert wanted to ask you something…" Feliciano said through a dry mouth.

"Alright," He said,

"But maybe you should eat something first and rest a bit." Feliciano commented, "I made some roasted potatoes and I found some small berries blooming around the property. They are very sweet."

"Thank you… But I think I am going to shower first."

"Ok, I'll have a meal ready for you when you come down."

ooooooooooooo

Ludwig had learned to use his water sparingly and after some debate he thought he needed some time to let his mind wander. So he undressed slowly, checked over his body for any new injuries in the mirror. He hated his new body. His bones, though powerful and menacing without muscle, lacked substance. Where meat use to fill his body with gentle curves off his shoulders and chest now were dips and valleys. It was not as dramatic in reality as it was in his mind, but it didn't change how he felt. He ran water just warm enough to be comfortable and stood under the man made waterfall.

Dirt and grime from days of work melted from his body. Smells flushed away into the drain. Ludwig scrubbed until his skin stung before moving unto the next part of himself. He was careful with his soap, a luxury, but the round slippery creature defied him and hopped from his hands. Smashing against the wall it fled up the tub and then ran back down between his feet. He gave chase, but his wide fingers were to slow and tired. Finally he corned it and swiped it back into his palm. He stood up only to be thrashed by the facet's claws.

"Son of a bitch!" He howled as he rubbed the back of his head. He lathered his hands back up and returned the soap to its holding place. He shut off the water to apply the soap. His thoughts preoccupied him. Feliciano in particular. He tried to reason, why he always fretted. Was Feliciano not a man? Capable of fending for himself? The little Italian had proven his ability by trials and obstacles Ludwig himself struggled with. Why did he need to protect him? What spurred this on. No, he didn't need to protect him, he was possessive of Feliciano. Not in an abusive way, but in a more primal sense. Feliciano belong to him and was his responsibility. He didn't care much what the man did but so long as no one threatened him.

But what about Feliciano made Ludwig wile into such a territorial state? His seemingly fragileness? No, he knew Feliciano had strength in him. His seemingly endless bucket of positivity? It sometimes was annoying. He wrestled with his mind and pinned it into the corner of his skull by the stem. What was it? Attractiveness. Loving nature. Genuine.

Feliciano didn't lie or deceive Ludwig, besides to dodge out on small things such as training. He was concerned about Ludwig and cared what happened to him. Besides Gilbert, no else seemed to care if he should be torn to shreds in war, instead they would wait to consume his carcass. He always tended to Ludwig's needs like a little wife or mother that Ludwig had been deprived of since birth.

Feliciano was also attractive. That hair, not the color he generally lusted after in his magazines but still a rusty shade that he thought was unique. His light eyes and tanner skin somehow tapped into some sort of reservoir of sexual madness that made ill-mannered thoughts flood Ludwig's mind. In what now, at least he thought, was a sick and hateful, or now he was taught, fantasy he wanted to dominate his darker companion and top-

No. He did not, should not, lust after men. He desired women, his collection of books proved so, and given the opportunity in a responsible setting he would gladly take a woman. He felt no attraction to other males, just Feliciano. The Italian was safe, predictable, truthful and loyal. Ludwig knew how Feliciano thought, like a man would, and what he would crave. They were the same and easy to understand despite a few oddities.

_I can't be homosexual… I… No. Coupling with a man is a crime. It will not help the German race recover, just as the French or English race need population. In all practicality it makes no sense or benefit… Selfish and harmful crime is all it is… No… Feliciano's body… His eyes, that petite frame…_

Ludwig felt a tension between his hips and a pulse.

_No, no, no, no, no! __Don't! Think of old women, saggy and wrinkled with draping flesh and curled bodies. Think of grassy meadows of cattle and sheep. _

His body calmed down.

_I need a magazine._ He thought as he turned the water back on. He concentrated on his breathing and ridding the suds from his form. He decided that promptly after his shower he would retreat for a quick moment into his bedroom and relieve himself.

ooooooooooooo

"You wanted to ask me something brother?" Ludwig slid between the door. His hair still down and wet. His stomach was eager to get to the table but it would be better to speak to Gilbert before a distraction came about. Gilbert perked up and sat himself upright.

"I wanted to ask you if I may have a visitor." He said,

"Who?"

"May I?"

"That depends, my brother."

"No it does not, they are no enemy of yours." Gilbert snorted,

"Then the answer is no until you tell me who will trespass in my home." Ludwig said,

"… Elizaveta," He said. Ludwig face scrunched in disapproval and his lips parted to deny his brother's request. But Gilbert cut him off,

"Please brother, she is all I can look forward too."

"No, she disrespected me in my own house."

"Get a grip, everyone is disrespecting you! You have zero regards from other countries, no alliances! Elizaveta is no threat!"

"What makes you think she would want to tread on my soil?" Ludwig hissed,

"… She will," Gilbert leered,

"You don't need her around." Ludwig said simply and began to leave.

"You have your lover why can't I?" Gilbert growled just high enough for Ludwig to hear. The taller brother stiffened and his jaw clenched as his nostrils flared. But this beastly expression did not phase Gilbert.

"What did you say?"

"Don't reprimand me like a child!" Gilbert spat, "You forget who is older, who fed you as an infant, who taught you everything you know, who raised you to greatness?"

"What lover?" Ludwig demanded,

"It is so obvious that Leos knows it," Gilbert whispered, "You are attracted to Feliciano, you love him. Not like an ally. Like a mate would and you cannot stand that."

_Could he read my thoughts? Did I say anything aloud in the shower that he could have over heard?_

"Ludwig, please, Elizaveta… She is a challenge. That toughness and fierce nature just seem to warm my own spirit…"

"Fine, and I don't love him." Ludwig rebutted.

"Why don't you love him?" Gilbert cornered him. Ludwig had not prepared for his brother to question him so slyly. Now his tongue flopped around in a pool of spit like a fish, unable to do anything but struggle against the snare it was caught in.

"Why?" Gilbert pressed, "Because it is wrong? Because you were taught to persecute the Homosexuals? Are you less of a man because you wish to dominate one? Or is it that think it will reflect on your nation?"

"Halts Maul," Ludwig warned,

"Fuck you. Who is Ludwig? Who is Germany? Draw the line and make your move or you will wallow in your own misery… Now, get me some damn potatoes." Gilbert ordered.

ooooooooooooo

After serving his brother a portion of food Ludwig sat back down to enjoy his first taste of food for the day. Again, he was amazed. Feliciano could make even the blandest foods delicious with nothing at his disposal. He wasted nothing, peels, eyes, spare the poison leafs. No butter or cream to flavor or herbs to spice it.

But perhaps, Ludwig thought, it wasn't the method Feliciano cooked. Perhaps it was just being cooked for. Having someone care enough to put food in his hallow stomach. He watched the Italian eat. His chest twisted and he held his breath. What if Gilbert was right?

He started a list in his head. Desperate to organize his thoughts.

Was Feliciano attractive? Yes.

Did he care about his well-being? Of course.

Did he feel sexually attracted to him? Hmmm. Well his body was nice

Was he curious? He did have questions.

Did he like women? Yes and so did Feliciano. Feliciano always flirted with pretty dames when the opportunity came along. The term 'Italian Stallion' held true in the literal sense. He seemed to flirt with whatever women responded, and he wooed them well. What if Ludwig was Homosexual but Feliciano wasn't? Would he be appalled? Certainly any other man would be.

It wasn't worth risking his friendship with Feliciano. It was better to bury his emotions. It was safer. It benefited his family. Yes it made sense. Ludwig merely smiled at his friend who began to stare back at him.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Ludwig and Feliciano's relationship has left the run way and will being its turbulent flight. Fasten your seat belts. If you aren't into Gerita, im giving yall fair warning XD.

Next chapter shall be a tad bitter sweet and probably that last historical context chapter for a long time. After that its Ludwig & family based.

dont forget to vote

please R&R if you like ^^


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer-I do not own hetalia**

**Note- Now the story shall begin rolling. As I mentioned before. Dark themes, Gerita, etc. thanks for all the reviews and please review. Review=chapters**

**oooooooooo**

Gilbert stared at his plaster prison walls. His ear's twitched at sounds around him, but his eyes didn't stray from the grey texture. For entertainment, he would scratch himself, hum, sleep, prod his injuries and hiss from pain. His boredom had reached dangerous levels. He began to pick up feral habits, like chewing on sheets and scratching at the head board. Gilbert would gnaw at his own skin and make imprints with his teeth. Sometimes he would pull at his hair and rip it from his scalp, inspecting each vibrant strand before discarding it off the side of the bed.

Food was his own break from madness and Feliciano his own companion. His brother would come in occasionally but because of the way Gilbert treated him, the younger rarely visited. Today, as the mundane routine continued, Feliciano walked in with a bowl of broth for breakfast and a glass of water. His clothing was stained from days of house work. To conserve on water and soap, Feliciano wore the same outfit around the house all week and only changed for going out. So the Italian was freckled with brown and green stains, the fabric began to wear thin.

"Good morning Gilbert," The same cheery tone. Gilbert sighed,

"Morning Feli," He said,

"Oh, I have good news for you. Elizaveta agreed to visit today. She'll be here in a few hours."

"You didn't warn me?" Gilbert scolded,

"I'm sorry! I got word last night but you were asleep, and-" Gilbert raised his hand to stop him.

"It's fine… I am just so ungroomed…" He said. Feliciano smiled,

"I can help you Gilbert. If you like, I can bathe and shave you." He offered. Gilbert raised a hand to his stubbly chin and smoothed over the fair hairs.

"It's hard Feli… I can't… I hate being so dependent on other people… I can't bathe with this contraption on. I'm wasting away in a bed. I can't even shave my face…"

"I understand Gilbert… But, if you want to be clean,"

"Let me do it myself," Gilbert insisted,

"Okay, okay… But perhaps it is best if we wait until Ludwig goes out it would be better. You know how he worries." Feliciano reasoned.

ooooooooooooo

After pushing Feliciano away several times, the Italian finally let the injured man have his space. Stretching and struggling, he tried to reach the corner's of his body with the sponge. The stool he sat on rocked precariously as he shifted his weight. The towels beneath him absorbed the dripping foul water. He had been able to clean his private areas, thank God, but was straining to reach his foot and back.

Feliciano offered once more, but firmer, taking the soft and sloppy tan sponge from his hand. Gilbert protested but went quiet when a soothing message of the warm clean water went over his back. Feliciano firmly pressed against Gilbert, who's back gave with little pressure. He was weak. Ribs began to show from his spine and his shoulder blades were hallow.

"May I shave?" Gilbert asked, Feliciano handed him a mirror and razor blade then continued to clean his back.

The mirror shined back the first images he had seen of himself since his incapacitation. He stared for a moment. His marred eye was bruised and the lids pulled to keep the cloudy pupil from the light. The one good eye was dull and void of any luster. His masculine face was now withering and thin. Gilbert flicked open the straight razor and lathered his face. He listened to the dragging sound across his jaw as the metal sliced the hairs. His body shivered a bit and his spine tingled.

"Are you cold?" Feliciano asked,

"I am fine," Gilbert returned to his grooming. He worked the razor from his jaw to his chin and then under his neck. When all the soapy lather was gone and his bare skin showed he touched it with the metal.

_It would be nothing for this razor to sever my veins…_ His finger's wrapped around the handle tight. The blade at his throat. Eyes widened as he focused. The instruments trembled in his hand. It slid. Down and closed, back into his lap without a bit of blood or flesh on it. Gilbert sighed and placed the mirror back down. The thought of Elizaveta walking in on a suicide scene made a wave of shame splash against his heart. Ludwig's anguish, and probably rage, that would torment him for years. No, for Gilbert suicide was an easy way out, the folding of the hand, the white flag that he was too stubborn and prideful to give in. Even with the horrors lingering in his mind about Ivan, his country, his family.

"All done," Feliciano chirped, "I brought up a fresh shirt," He handed him a long grey night shirt. As Gilbert slipped it on Feliciano hastily gathered the towels. Gripping the corner of the bed, Gilbert pulled himself back up and under the covers. He lifted his bottom up to place a towel underneath him. He hated not being able to wear pants like a man. His legs always cold and shaking.

"You look much better Gilbert,"

"…" His head flopped to the side. Feliciano frowned and collected the last of the supplies and headed out.

"Thank you… Feli…" Gilbert said. The Italian looked back at Gilbert, his warm eyes shining while a smile curled up his left cheek. His head cocked slightly as he gave a nodded to Gilbert.

ooooooooooooo

When Elizaveta entered the house Ludwig's aura shifted from his usual authoritive to a menacing and aggressive tension that lingered in the room, though he was not there to greet her. He stayed outside working, but he knew when she arrived. Everyone felt it. Feliciano greeted her and was the polite face in the household, escorting her like a lady should be by her host to the door of Gilbert's room.

When Gilbert saw the waves of chocolate swirling hair and creamy skin wrapped in colorful clothes his eyes widened. He stared for a moment before swallowing.

"Are you going to stare at me all day?"

"I wouldn't mind," She expected Gilbert's voice to have an acidic tone of condescending self-righteousness it always possessed. But his tone was soft, sincere, almost as if he was giving her a compliment. Take back a bit she approached him slowly. His one eye followed her, the other cloaked with a black patch.

"How are you doing?"

"A bit better, little hungry but who isn't?"

"You don't seem to be in pain,"

"I hide it well…" He admitted, "Although I do admit Feli and my brother are doing their best to heal me… How are things where you are?"

"Same... So, they really help you out a lot?"

"He is my brother and Feli is just a sweetheart," Gilbert said. Elizaveta huffed,

"Feli yes, but Ludwig is as stubborn as a mule."

"And just a strong… He has to be stubborn, or he would never survive against such powerful nations… He can be a gentleman, more so than I."

"I don't think gentlemanly ways run in your bloodlines," She said,

"Not in me anyway…"

oooooooooooooooo

Ludwig came in just as Feliciano made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He watched the other male in the door way for a moment. Feliciano was washing the counters off, not that there was any crumbs to be had.

"Feli," He whispered softly. With a twitch of the ear Feliciano partially turned.

"Yes Ludwig?"

"I…" He bit the side of his tongue. His eyes looked the Italian over top to bottom. His heart began to chew at his ribs and pace around his chest. Blood rushed to his head and he could feel the flesh of his cheeks warm. He took a breath,

"Never mind," He said and turned away.

_How can I be so childish and immature. This is my own problem how could I even think of jeopardizing my relationship with the only true friend I have? What a stupid thing I almost did. I have to work this out on my own… Why do I keep even bringing it up? Have I not settled this matter in my mind already? Fuck, this might be a bigger problem than I originally calculated…So what if I am curious about his sexuality? To be so rude as to ask…_ He crouched by the radio and flicked it on. The knobs gently turning until though the haze a voice came through. It was a program from England. A story meant for children. He sat down on the couch and listened. It was the only thing that may not remind him of his situation. A tale of pirates took shape in his mind. He laid his hand on the cushion next to him, rubbing faintly with the movement of his fingers.

His brain stopped painting the picture the program was commanding and start a new portrait. Leos, asleep and curled up next to him. The radio just background noise. His body normal, face unstressed. The house in pristine condition. On his other side Feliciano was already in a deeper slumber, his head slightly cocked to the side. In a moment of imaginary weakness he leaned over and rested his tired head again his friend's shoulder and closed his eyes. The sensation of that thin but soft skin.

RING RING RIIIING. He jolted from his fantasy, eyes wide and looking around like buck that heard a rifle. His chest expanded and with a snort he settled down. Stretching out his tired body, he reached for the phone on the end table.

"Beilschmidt," A high pitched cry, like that of a some succubus dosed in holy water violated Ludwig's ears. He dropped the phone and cradled his ear. With his free hand he picked up the wailing device, which even at an arm's length away was too loud.

"Is something wrong? Is someone in trouble?" He shouted into the phone. A voice fought through the wailing.

"Mr. Beilschmidt… We need you to come down here!"

"I can't hear you over that screaming, who are you? Where are you?" He asked. This volume of commotion lured the Italian in, who stretched his neck over just inside the door. He gave a confused look to the German, who shrugged and gave just as clueless of a look back.

"Its-son-can't-ed-you" He voice could not be made out. Ludwig tried again to ask but this time the voice was able to fight its way through the line.

"Please get to the hospital now! Leos," The woman's voice was again overpowered.

Ludwig let the phone slide from his hand and hit the floor. His body stopped for a moment, as if to reset itself. A blank stare overcame his face.

"Ludwig?" A hint of shaking was in his voice. The sound of the Italian's words stirred and Ludwig, a sudden realization cam over him.

"I have to go. Now," Ludwig flung himself forward and bounded for the door.

"Ludwig you are filthy from working!" He hadn't heard. He was out the door and running down the forest path to the town. Feliciano stood in the doorway. A monotone beat from the abandoned phone buzzing in the background.

oooooooooo

Ludwig required no breath for explanation. The mailman's car was immediately loaned to him with best wishes. The drive was fast, Ludwig violated every speed limit, traffic stop, and blew past quaint towns he once slowed to enjoy. His veins twisted under his flesh and curled up, as if to burst from the body and hemorrhage from the pressure his heart was pumping. His eyes darted from corner to corner, sizing every turn, estimating how fast he could go.

The yowling could not have been produced by a child, certainly not an injured one with no strength such as Leos. No. Something must have been wrong. Perhaps several parents had to be called in. An Accident? Perhaps. An evacuation? Something that effected everyone for sure. The cries sounded more like a beast than a child's.

He only stopped when it came to the large gates of the hospital and parked crooked next to the other cars. His long legs strode up the stairs to the door where immediately upon opening a vile howling assaulted him. The marble walls and floors enhanced the sounds. Patients and nurses held their ears and gritted their teeth. Ill willed looks fell upon Ludwig as he made his way to the front desk.

"I was told to come immediately, my son is-"

"Get upstairs now!" She hissed and tugged at her small cap, trying to have it cover her ears. He did as he was commanded, his legs skipping several steps until he was up to the second floor. The crying was louder now. Older children lined the halls and limped, rolled, or scooted to the furthest corners to escape the noise.

Through the doors the intensity increased. Immobile children held their head under pillows and nurses gathered at the far corner. He noticed a few other parents or visitors. Which eased him, although they were occupied by the noise. From the curtains that isolated Leos poured nurses who shook their heads in despair. When their eyes caught glimpse of the tall man charging toward them their jaws slacked and faces turned happy. One of the placed a firm guiding hand, almost throwing Ludwig into the small room.

There was silence. The quietness almost was mistake for deafness. The moment Ludwig was pushed through the curtains the ululations of the demons had stopped. Father reached out and touched his son's cheek. Clear eyes, stared back, motionless and leaking. Like a still ocean with no tide. Body withered to nothing, too weak to move. Lungs expanded in choppy movements. Finally the platinum eyebrows curved up and bloody mouth quivered. The crying began again, but softer, like a child's voice should be. Ludwig engulfed him with his arms, fingers clawing at the boys back. The lack of muscle control let the boy's arms dangle in his grasp.

Leos cried and whimpered.

"Papa," his strained voice breathed.

"Shhhhhhhhhh, Papa is here. Hush now, it will be alright. Shhhhhhhh, it's ok, it's ok, I'm here. Leos, I'm h-here. P-papa's here." He pressed his crying eyes into his son's shoulders. His breathes were sharp as he wept with his son. Ludwig laid down, gathering the boy like a doll and pressing him against his chest like a needy infant. His blue eyes stung from the rays of light that reached down from the heavens, penetrating the glass, and touched the tears on his cheek.

**ooooooooooooo**

_reviews=chapters_

_remember to vote on my poll, i'd like to see what people prefer. poll results will not change the plot of atrophy._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer-** _I do not own hetalia_

**Note-**_ Sorry its been a while. I had finals, computer completely wiped out, been trying to find any sort of inspiration after my grueling finals and essays. Anyway. I am back, but I am now also in the process of slowly moving. XD._

to recap from last chapter:

_The crying began again, but softer, like a child's voice should be. Ludwig engulfed him with his arms, fingers clawing at the boys back. The lack of muscle control let the boy's arms dangle in his grasp._

_ Leos cried and whimpered._

_ "Papa," his strained voice breathed._

_ "Shhhhhhhhhh, Papa is here. Hush now, it will be alright. Shhhhhhhh, it's ok, it's ok, I'm here. Leos, I'm h-here. P-papa's here." He pressed his crying eyes into his son's shoulders. His breathes were sharp as he wept with his son. Ludwig laid down, gathering the boy like a doll and pressing him against his chest like a needy infant with a blanket. His blue eyes stung from the rays of light that reached down from the heavens, penetrating the glass, and touched the tears on his cheek._

_...  
_

Hours past, no one disturbed father and son. Leos had fallen asleep briefly but was awake again when Ludwig tried to shift his weight. His fingers and toes curling and flexing. His neck cracked with each movement. His small pink tongue slipped past his pale lips and moistened them. His throat was sore but his meek voice cracked through his teeth,

"Papa,"

"I'm here, son."

"I love you, Papa," Ludwig nuzzled his child's hair, his nose touched the cold fragile one of Leos'. " He breathed, his shoulders shivered, straining to move, his eyes vivid with pain and confusion. Ludwig's massive hand rested on his shoulders, his fingers were like claws and hooked over his joint. The odor of the earth, musk of his father's flesh, and sweet scent of air filled Leos' dried nose. His body gave to the weight of the man's hand. Ludwig grasp him like a tiger would a scrap of meat and drew him in closer, until his expanding chest pressed against the boy. Son leaned in and listened to the thudding of his father's heart and growls of his gut. He heard his lungs pull in air, like wind into a valley. That deep voice rippling through to the center of his own bones.

"You've been asleep a long time. Your muscles have wasted and until you work them back up you will not be able to move…"

"…My… Chest… It hurts," Leos squeaked. Hot breath fluttered the boy's pale hair when his father sighed.

"That is where you are injured…" He said,

"…I… remember… Wher… Mr… Italy?"

"Feli is at home with your uncle Gilbert. He is injured as well and could not come. Feli is looking after him." Ludwig said as his palms rubbed his son's boney back. Leos closed his eyes again. His small nose sniffed and lips pursed.

The sound of quick and tapping feet echoed down the hall. Ludwig's ear perked, tracking it as it came closer. It halted in front of them. The curtains tapped as they were pushed aside. Ludwig shifted his head so only one of his eyes glared at the intruder. She curled away from him, clutching her clipboard.

" V-visitors must leave now…The hospital must secure for the night…" She said. His brow softened and he looked back down at his son. His eyes had opened and he was looking up from his frozen position. His eyes already filling with tears.

"Shhhhhh, it's alright Leos… Hush now, it will be okay…" His board forehead touched the boy's.

"P-papa…" Leos' face began to twist into a frown and his chest bounced in preparation to cry. Ludwig untangled himself from Leos and tucked the sheets around his body. He tried not to look into his son's eyes, but he felt their cold and desperate touch on his cheek.

"I will be back as soon as I can Leos," He promised, "I love you,"

"Paaaapaaaa," He cried as his father turned. The skull shattering shrill that plagued the hospital before, returned. Ludwig rested his head in his palms as he returned to the bedside.

"Leos, Leos, shhhhh, papa must go… Calm down Leos…. Shhhhh," The back of his hand wiped away the tears from his pale cheek.

"Papa… I… Want… Papa be… here… feel… like papa… here," His speech was slurred and difficult for his father to decipher. Ludwig bit his tongue, it was the first time they had seen each other in any state of consciousness since his child was taken and burned unmercifully. His last memory would be of soldiers standing over him pressing a hot brand into his bones. Of course the boy was distraught, his only console leaving him so soon? Ludwig's heart had been staked and tethered to the boy, allowing him to only go so far before the organ threatened to birth from his chest and spill onto the floor. He would stay the night if he could, stay weeks but that was impossible. Feliciano and Gilbert would be too venerable. The more he thought about leaving the heavier his body felt. If only he could calm him in some way to stop Leos from crying himself to death. He tried to think of something a child would want for comfort. Anything at all he could use to barter with. Of course, he hadn't thought to bring the stuffed lamb. Nothing on Ludwig's person could be considered comforting. His large fingers scratched over his chest above his stinging heart. The soft fabric of his shirt bunching and gathering his sweat.

His brain clicked. If Leos would accept some ratty old lamb in his attic for decades why not an even more modest gift? He sat down on the boy's bed and pulled his arms through his sleeves and took off his shirt. His knowledge of knots that was ground into his brain now were uses to tie his shirt into a little package. A simple knot at the end, two more in the middle and after rolling the front up tied the two ends together. He tucked it beneath his son's arm and just high enough for his son to rest his head against it.

"Here, take this. Okay? Think of it as a temporary stuffed Lamb… A little piece of me to be with you. Will you be quiet if I give you this?" He asked. Leos inhaled the odor of clothing and looked up at his father.

"Good boy," He leaned over and pressed his lips on his pale hair. "I love you,"

...

"Ve, I made some soup for you two," Feliciano chirped as he walked through the door. In his hands two ivory bowls that steamed. His old worn clothes were replaced with a clean green shirt and dark brown pants, a suitable appearance for their guest. Elizaveta smiled and took the soup to her lap. Feliciano handed over Gilberts, their eyes meeting and a glimmer of worry rippled through the Italian's eyes. They stayed that way a second over awkward before he turned a left.

In his lap he observed the "soup" which was little more than watered down broth and whatever edible greens were available. Elizaveta stared at her bowl as well, guilty she should take what little they have. Her stomach rolled over itself and jabbed her spine, reminding her of the hunger pain. Gilbert didn't pay attention to her stillness as he gulped down his portion. His teeth bracing against the porcelain as his tongue and lips worked to get every bit of flavored wetness. Gilbert breathed as he licked his chops, eying his empty bowl as if more would magically appear.

"Here, eat mine, I'm not hungry." She said. He watched her slender fingers flex, the tendons smoothing into her hand, petite wrist shaking slightly under the meager weight. She avoided his eyes, which were staring at her with a threatening gaze, his chin tucked toward his chest and brow casting a shadow across his eyes.

"No," He breathed,

"You need it to heal,"

"Don't pity me." He hissed,

"It's not pity its kindness!" She snapped,

"I don't need anyone else taking care of me!"

"God! Why? Why are you such a stubborn asshole? Is your pride so big you have no sight? Take the damn food." She demanded,

"I will not take food from a woman." He stated plainly,

"Oh, don't get all chivalrous!"

"Elizaveta!" His voice cried and cracked, she fell silent, "If you want to really make me feel better… Just eat the damn soup." She huffed and dipped the spoon into the liquid. He lips parted slightly, her face twitching.

"Ugh, you eat that?" Her lips curled inside her mouth. He rolled her eyes and held out his hand to take it from her. Smiling to herself as he ate.

_I know how to work you Gilbert._ Her tongue eagerly picking up whatever liquid graced her lips and deposited the food into her stomach.

...

The sky had grumbled and turned darker, the heavens ready to pout and cry on the house in the mountains Feliciano now called home. Elizaveta had left, taking whatever last rays of sunlight with her and leaving Gilbert in a dark and dank room. He shivered from the nip of cold the wind brought through the drafty sills. He had listened to Elizaveta's car sputter away until it could not be detected. Playing back the sound in his mind and imaging her coming back. His dreams were interrupted.

"Gilbert," Feliciano peeked through the door so only his head and chest were in the room. His one eye glared back at him, but the older male sighed and softened his glance. He was temporarily eased from Elizaveta's visit, less apt to bite the hand that so loyally fed him.

"Yes, Feli?"

"Well, I was just checking on you," He said,

"Feli?"

"Hm?"

"You gave me a worried look before… Is everything alright?" Feliciano shut the door behind him and leaned against it. His face staring to the floor.

"Ludwig when to the hospital. Something happened and he needed to go to Leos."

"Is he okay? Didtheytellyouanything? What-"

"I don't know," Feliciano shook his head. Gilbert sunk back into his linens. Fragile arms nearly consumed by the sheets laid over him. The underside of his jaws was sharply defined. Feliciano caught himself observing the starving man's body.

"I know I'm attractive but stop staring at me." Gilbert said as his eye fixed unto the roof. His boney fingers reached to touch his eye patch, but the darkness was soothing to the injury.

"Gilbert?"

"Yes," His tone was slightly annoyed. He didn't mean to sound angry at Feliciano, but the man was simply loitering in his room. Nothing could be done about Leos or Ludwig, there was no food or wounds to tend. Why was he still here? Certainly he made himself unpleasant enough to avoid to push away those guilt filled eyes.

"I was… Wanting to ask you something a little personal." He answered. Gilberts mouth twitched, rolling his lips into his mouth.

"What?" He tried not to sound bitter,

"Gilbert…You… You where the one … I mean… Well… You went too… You… Went to the… Well, those places." Feliciano stuttered,

"I've been many places Feli dear, which place are you referring too?"

"The camps," The air seemed to rush from the room into the furthers corners from Gilbert, bring a chill towards Feliciano. The entire atmosphere shifted angrily, the heavens roared in disapproval and the pale hand of God struck down to the earth in a brilliant flash, slamming against the ground like a mallet of a judge. Feliciano flinched as the storm stirred. Slowly, Gilbert bore weight on each arm and lifted himself upright.

"What of it?" His voice was toneless,

"Well… um… I… Do you really… I mean, I know you had… errum… I… Well, do you believe certain people… should… be…eh…?" Gilbert's brows met and his jaw tightened. Feliciano bit his lip and waited to be scolded.

"Feliciano, you need to have the courage to talk straight with me or I won't be delicate," He said, "What do you want my opinion on? That is what you are asking, correct?"

"Yes… I want your opinion on. Homosexuals." Feliciano's throat wrapped around his Adams apple and strangled it in its tense grasp. Gilbert leaned back against the head board and sighed.

"I really don't care Feli. There are so many other things in the world that are wrong. I don't have the energy to give a damn if some guy is getting a cock in his ass." Feliciano breathed and gave a weak smile.

"Well then, just curious,"

"Don't lie," Gilbert said, "Why ask me such a question?"

"Well… It's just, I don't know. You use to call me such nice things, things that in your culture someone may deem you gay. Saying I am cute, and a lovely thing."

"It is only the truth, and yes, it is suspicious but I enjoy females and all their benefits… Or lack thereof in some cases." Gilbert mumbled,

"What if… Ludwig was gay? Would you have…"

"Look, Feli. This is a hard time. A generation and beyond have had hate tattooed unto their flesh for all to ridicule. Ludwig is extremely confused right now, I don't think now is the right time to tell him your-"

"I'm not homosexual," Feliciano cut him off. Gilbert cocked his head to the side, his tongue graced along the back of his teeth. The Italian had backed himself into a corner and Gilbert was not a kind predator.

"Why Feliciano? Is there something wrong with it?" He questioned with a playful and smooth tone.

"No! It's just…"

"Well you asked is Ludwig was gay. Would you hate him? Would he be disgusting to you? The man that provided for you?"

"No, no, Gilbert it's not that," Feliciano had a pleading voice.

"Oh? What is it then… Do you fear _you_ are homosexual?" Gilbert watched Feliciano's skin pale and his lips drain of color. Gilbert's eyes were glazed with a dangerous gleam of pleasure. The same gaze a wolf gives a rabbit, knowing he is going to eat it, before actually killing. But Feliciano's nervous, almost terrified, face stung Gilbert's chest. He didn't truly want to put Feliciano through any more anguish, and now felt guilt over his harsh accusations, however false or true they may be.

"If it helps Feli… I wouldn't ever turn in my brother or anyone."

...

_Soon, awkward awkward gerita confuzzledness will soon plague this story. Remember to vote on my poll ^^._

_remember, reviews = fuel for story progression, more review = more chapters.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer-** dont own hetalia

**Notes**- Sorry its been so long. testing and such. I had some done, I haven't edited this much but I felt it was getting a bit too long between updates. That and, I lost the entire chapter. fun :3 Anyway, lets get some dark humor going.

**ooooooooooooo**

Feliciano had begun to feel that little strain in his throat that sunk into his gut. The kind of anxiety that makes a man feel as if the hair on his head will fall out in one mass. The sky was turning darker, Ludwig wasn't home yet, Gilbert had given him a harsh poke to the mind, Leos' condition was unknown, and dinner wasn't started. Guilt warmed in his belly and steamed his brain with impure thoughts and fantasies, all the while the clock turning and cooing down stairs. He ignored it, surrendering to his imagination rather than bare his responsibility.

Feliciano slid into the bathroom and locked the door. His hands rushed to his belt and unclasped it, the metal buckle clanging against the tile floor. His pants flowed down and his ankles waded in a pool of black clothe as he scurried to the tub. Hand slipping into his waistband, feeling the course hair of his groin. Something about doing this into the toilet seemed dirtier, he always did this into the tub.

A thought, killing his excitement for a moment.

_Flushing my progeny into the same place I shit. Bad enough I let my seed fall unto the ground._

He felt his crotch relax a bit, his mood almost killed. He gave his head a shake and closed his eyes. Feeling over his penis as if he was searching and not playing. Stiffly his fingers groped, then over his foreskin which had tightened to a miserable amount. It ached, it hurt a little, and he whined. Looking at himself with a frown.

Perhaps, in the mind, a penis can be made into an ideal image or at least what that person perceives as normal. And this made Feliciano feel worse. His olive skin darkened smoothly over his private areas which concealed the veins. The bronze skin that made his body look exotic, made for better flesh over his sensitive areas. his hair an odd shade of reddish brown to match his hair and did not grow in a thick patch as with most men. His hair had always been sparser and more wavy than curly. It was his foreskin though, that made him feel most peculiar. It was scrunched shut over the tip of his penis, forbidding it to leave its confines. Every time, every morning, when Feliciano felt that blood pool into his lower regions he cringed. It was uncomfortable to be erect. He had to be tender during masturbation.

_Even your body formed to stop you from this sin_. However, he knew this would help him unwind a bit. Feliciano tried to think of those pretty girls he saw last year by the post office. The roundness of their breasts or the shape of their bodies. Hand working himself in a steady pace. The soft skin like dough in his hands, wrinkling and giving to his fingers. _The young woman, neighbor of my brothers, back in Italy._ He exhaled a breath he had held, hips rising into his hand.

_The lawyer's daughter, she was a pretty blonde thing. Almost as blonde as Ludwig. Her eyes not as bright though. Ludwig's eyes, those commanding pastel blues that stare down at me. Those shoulders of his, that jaw, the masculinity. The way his muscles slope down mold into his hips. The garden trail of fair hair that grows so straight and soft, like fur, leading down to his groin. His boots that hug his toned calves, the way his shirt buttons fell across his breast. The blankets tenting over his morning erection as he still sleeps._

Feliciano gave a gasp and hitched his breath. He brought his free hand to his face and covered it. Parting his fingers just enough to see the mess he made in the tub. His fluids had hit the wall, the side, some dribbling on the floor still. Feliciano blushed and grabbed the nearest piece of dirty laundry. One of Ludwig's work shirts, a faded blue. He wiped up his liquid and ran a bit of water to carry the remnants in the tub away. He scrubbed his hands in the sink, lifting them to his petite nose and making sure not a trace of scent was on him before tucking himself back in and straightening his clothing. He avoided his own face in the mirror as he walked out.

oooooooooo

When Ludwig arrived home he had walked up the fence and stood outside for a while. The white paint skin on the planks had peeled away and blotched it with grey scars of dried wood. The grass was dead, yellow and crinkled in creases from his wheel barrow. The house itself looked better than most, it needed paint and washing. The boarded windows black eyes on its once cheery face. The smoke puffed from the dark brick chimney. Yet despite it's rough and dishealved appearance, Ludwig for this moment could look beyond it.

It was a strong house. Built right with large solid timbers supporting it. The bricks beneath the grime were perfect, not at all chipped. The accents on the edges of the house were done by hand. The wood floors inside were no less than perfectly installed. His kitchen worked and was large enough to accommodate a large family. He had plumbing, water, warmth, luxury. While others froze in the streets. He was happy. Overjoyed to have his home, his land, and his friends. The dirt and injuries done, he would fix eventually. Although his tiles might be mismatched and new wood may look like a scar against the old. It would work.

Ludwig shut the little gate, latching it as if it had some kind of security value. He wished and longed for another dog. There were no dogs in Germany, none that weren't stigmatized or on a menu. He brushed the though from his head and went to the door. He could hear the sounds of Feliciano in the kitchen. The pins of pans and sizzle of food was a nice sound to come home too. Feliciano was not bad to come home to either.

It felt good to have someone there to greet him. In the back of his head, he banished the loneliness he felt when his colleagues brought lunches made by their loving wife. Or when they received a package from them. Some of his men would cry and hold that little tidbit of love against their battle torn vest. Ludwig had no one to send him anything to cry for. Not until his family came along, now the loneliness had returned with his son's absents he thought. But not for long. He would not take advantage of Feliciano's care. He would not take for granted a son who was alive. Nor a brother tough enough to help him.

"Feliciano!" Ludwig strided in. Hanging up his coat and placing his boots on the rack he leaned into the kitchen. Feliciano turned, wooden spoon in hand, and smiled. His hair half tucked behind his ears from leaning over the food,

"Welcome home," He chirped. His eyes drifted to the bare shoulders and chest of his friend. "What happened to your shirt?" Feliciano asked,

"Oh, I'll tell you in a moment, let me go throw something on."

"B-but Ludwig… I haven't done the laundry," Feliciano said,

"I'll just put something dirty on," He called as he ascended the staircase.

"V-veeeeeee," Feliciano listened as his heavy footsteps walked down the hall overhead to the bedroom then into the bathroom. He heard the shuffle of his feet as he surely put a piece of laundry on, then took the same path down.

"Ludwig!" Gilberts voice called him,

"Just a minute brother," Ludwig's tone was lighter. Easing one of Feliciano's tensions. As he heard Ludwig approach he quickly turned and began stirring the broth furiously.

"S-so. How was Leos? Was everything alright?" He asked,

"He's awake! He can talk some… And scream. But he is severely atrophied and can't move. But I'm sure with a bit of therapy he will be fine!" Ludwig knew he was exaggerating a bit, but he didn't mind.

"That is great! When can he come home?" Feliciano asked, turning a bit. Ludwig was leaning on the window sill. Looking out into the dim landscape. But his face was calm, the wrinkles of stress faded into his creamy flesh. And that's when Feliciano clenched a bit. The light blue shirt that hung around him had a long wet stain that trailed down the center.

"Ve-veeee," Feliciano stood, unsure of what to do. Ignore it? Try and get him out of it? Oh yes, that wouldn't make him seem homosexual at all. Take off that shirt of yours I ejaculated on? He decided to ignore it. Hopefully, Ludwig would not take notice.

"I don't know… It depends on how fast he can recover." Ludwig said, "It was just so good to see his eyes open." Ludwig turned, brows slightly turned up and looking at his friend with a bit of admiration. The normally stoic face now bright and uncharacteristically so. Feliciano simply forced a smile through his nervousness and went back to cooking. Praying to the virgin mother he would not be punished so cruelly as to have Ludwig discover what was on his shirt.

oooooooooooo

After eating Ludwig took Gilberts portion and went up stairs to deliver it. Gilbert said up against the head board, eyes closed until Ludwig's heavy feet traipsed in. The thud of his boots and the drag of the soles against the strained hardwood in a steady beat was unique to his brother's gait. Feliciano was softer, more quick and melodic. He had expected his brother's feet to pass his room, but when the door creaked open his eye shot open.

"Leos…" Gilbert breathed. Ludwig closed his eyes, a content look on his face. Taking and deep breath and hinting at a smile he look at back at his brother. Gilbert let out a sigh and let his posture slump.

"Thank God," He said. Ludwig walked over to the bed, setting the food by his nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How is he?"

"Fragile, as always, but he's awake. He can talk a little. He can scream, he can scream loud." Ludwig gave a half chuckle before continuing, "He asked about you," Gilbert perked, "He wants to come home… It was hard to leave him there in such a critical state." Ludwig tone dipped off and he stared at the floor.

"Ahh, he's a German. He will pull through just fine." Gilbert kicked at his brother. His foot weakly crushing against his brother taut and strong back. "Consider his stock," he teased, "His father is as stubborn and strong as ass," He jokingly jabbed at Ludwig until a hint of a grin was on his lips. "It's great news brother… but… go change your shirt, its filthy. And you reek. What the fuck have you been doing? Go bathe," He kicked a little harder. Eyes falling on the stain on the back of Ludwig's shirt. Ludwig's face turned to his chest and arms sniffing, surely he didn't smell that bad? But he took his brother's word for it and got up.

Gilbert waited until he heard the water hiss out of the shower the tumble of it against the porcelain tub before reaching for his food. Broth yet again. Feliciano had managed to find something to put into it. Probably something he had been saving. What it was, could truly not be said for sure. He dipped his spoon in and began his meal. The darkness from the night creeping in, nudging the last bits of light out the opposite window. He sighed, knowing the pain he would be in if he tilted over and flicked the lights on.

The weight of his bowl was slowly decreasing. His appetite suddenly trickled away.

_ That's strange. I am always hungry…_ He thought as he rested the bowl on his night stand. He could always eat later, there was no rush. Sitting in the dark his ears perked at every sound. From his brothers foot steps to the soft murmur of conversation and little hints of laughter they had downstairs. While he was in the dark. Alone.

He slipped back down into the covers and closed his eyes. Feeling a little prick of pain in his chest. The yanking pain refused to let him drift, instead it only grew.

_I love being alone…_He reasoned with himself, _Why feel… so ousted? _He negotiated with his mind, think this minor pain was only from his isolation. But then the pain spread, as if traveling through his veins, climbing them like ropes, stabbing claws in the walls for support as it scaled up his chest to his shoulder. Then, bolting down his arm to the tips of his fingers. He growled and rolled over, shifting his injured leg. Catching his cry in his throat, he refused to call out. His back arching up, jaw grinding, breathe hissing from between his teeth. It almost seemed to paralyze him, vision clouding out into a haze of purple and blue specks. He let out a hitched breath then felt the pain begin to melt. It simmered back down into his chest where it waited for a few moments. Like a snake, striking and waiting for its prey to fall victim. Gilbert rubbed his chest, willing the burning agony away. His flesh dammed with sweat, body feeling as if in a boiling vat of water.

He breathed, concentrating on smothering the little flame in his ribs. After hours, it did, leaving him with an aching, tense, drowsy body. Stiff as a discarded corpse, he curled up and let his eyes rolled back and lids seal off his vision.

**ooooooooo**

so whats gonna happen to poor Gilbert?

if you like please R/R


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer-** Dont own hetalia

**Note-** Sorry its been so long. I have been busy and updated both my stories now. for a while FF wasn't letting me upload XD so here you are finally!

**ooooooooooooooooo**

Ludwig hadn't wasted a moment of light the next morning. While he had before plotted about his land in attempts to clean up, his work had simply been too massive to do much besides patch things up and leave half finished messes. Once the sky began to lighten, he was awake. His broad hands encircling the unsung alarm clock and shutting it off, looking over at Feliciano briefly. There wasn't a need for him to wake, so he let him sleep. Heaving up and flipping off his shirt, he grabbed one of his raggedy working sets of clothing and began to change. Hopping into the bathroom as he slipped each of his legs into the pants. Sliding the heavy fabric up to his waist where it sat perched on his hips.

He leaned over the sink, chest bare, rolling his head either way to look at the stumble that had grown over night. Should her bother shaving? His and drifted toward the straight razor nested away on the shelf along clean rags and a soap. Routine was routine and it seemed unsettling that his tried and true habits be violated without reason. He knew this was a bad way to do this as he soaped up his face. Lathering as well as he could. He flicked the blade out, its metal gleaming in the morning sun. Tilting his neck he traced the knife along his throat and curved around his sharp and defined jaw. The suds pooling over and dripping away with bits of blonde beard. The ripping sound of the blade as it dragged now from his chin to his cheek.

After a moment a smooth clean face emerged from under the grit. A splash of cool water and a whisking of a brush over his teeth and he was ready to go to work. As he slid that brush away he thought of his good fortune. Yes, they struggled for food, heat, clothing, but they still had some luxuries. A toothbrush, worn and frayed, but still useful. Yes, he had many things, a roof, towels, water, soap, shoes, and four walls. He didn't deserved them, he believed, but he had been bless anyway. He slid his shirt on and buttoned up. His family would not go hungry another night.

oooooooooo

When Feliciano awoke it was out of coldness, not choice. His body had curled up in its sleep but the temperature became too much. He rolled over, arm reaching out to feel the warm that was always there. The shadow from the window hadn't touched the bathroom door handle, so Ludwig should have still been asleep. But his hand fell to the mattress, a cold spot where his friends body should have been. He lifted himself up and looked around. Ludwig was gone and that haunting silence left behind. The sheer quietness made Feliciano unstable, he needed noise. Not a loud atmosphere per say, but just a little comfort of sound. The tap of a hammer or the mutter of German curses.

Rather than fall back asleep, the Italian decided to get up and start his hunt for food. Recalling the bare minimum in his pantry. He could not wait for spring, for the vegetables to grow, for a full stomach. All he could think of was food. Food, food, food, food, food! He peeked into Gilbert's room on his way down the stairs. The man was still sleep, a ghostly white, shivering a little. He pattered back to Ludwig's room and grabbed their blanket. Bringing it to Gilbert and flopping it over the conscious man. His shaking stopping, but white bros still frowned and face wrinkled with tension and stress.

Feliciano had just walked down the stairs when he noticed the locks undone. Freezing mid turn, hand around the decorative ball on the railing. Ludwig had left. Not just gone somewhere to repair something in the home. He was truly gone. Ludwig had rarely left, and when he did he always said so. It was a safety measure, to always have someone on guard.

Suddenly Feliciano's thoughts were shattered when a crack boomed through the house and property. The air from the man's lung fled his body. He winced and jumped a bit. Standing stiffly and on alert. His first thought was bomb. Bombing, there bombing us again, run! But the echo registered in his mind. A gun shot. It was a close one. Not in the clearing the house was in. The forest, perhaps up the trail.

Feliciano tipped into the pantry, slipping his arm behind the door and pulling out a slimmer rifle. It was pieces from other bits of guns. A mosaic patchwork of worn, dirt soaked wood and warn metals. It was light, simple, something Ludwig had made for Feliciano that even he could fire and handle. It was light, accurate, and almost idiot proof. Ludwig had even pre-loaded it for Feliciano.

The slim man cocked the gun. Hand shaking and clutching it. Who was shooting? Allied powers? Germans? Jews? Gypsies? Anyone could be, everyone was a danger. Feliciano stayed silent listening for anyone coming down the trail. Back braced to the corner against the window. No one could see him from outside or if they broke in. Again, a drill Ludwig installed in him during pre-war training.

His heart spasmed in his chest. The blood rushing to his head pounded in his ears. His lips stayed sealed shut to muffle his nervous vocal shivers. Then the sound came, the grinding of rocks and dirt beneath heavy boots. A heavy thump and straight bulling powerful stride. Is ears perked in recognition and the gun slacked down. The deep grunt and labored breaths so well familiarized with his brain, that the menacing sound was soothing. It was just Ludwig.

Laying the gun against the wall he arched up on the tips of his toes to see though the peep hole. Indeed, coming into the gate was Ludwig. He flung open the door and the leaned out, holding on by the door frame.

"Morning Ludwi-" Feliciano stopped himself. Eyes drifting from his friend who was covered in sweat and filth to what he was dragging along with him.

"F-f-food." Feliciano stood in shock. A small deer, a patch of redden fur above its eye. Faded spots on its rump, its young and thin. It is, however, enough food. Not only were animal hard to find, it was almost impossible to hunt them on foot. Forests near towns as they were had been hunted bare. Even a rat was hard to find. The songs of birds were rare. And prized meat such as deer, hog, bear, and cattle where perhaps only on a kings menu. Ludwig had found one however.

"She wasn't far. She was limping and I got lucky." Ludwig said, raising the animal up to inspect it. Feliciano took a step toward it. Hands out and just touched the fur of it.

"F-food." It was all he could get out. He had boiled everything out of the bones he had, every speck of vegetation was eaten, he didn't know what he would do today for food. His arms wrapped around it, only now did his hunger seem so bad as when food was in front of him. Clutching unto the still warm carcass he sighed, pressing his wet eyes into the dirty hide.

"Thank you,"

ooooooooooooooo

Ludwig had been good at the art of butchering since he was young. Gilbert had always insisted on either doing meat cuts at home or from only the best butcher. Taught well, he had always been confident until now. He had saved the blood, it was no question, but other organs he had once thrown out now seems such a waste. So he sat on one of the yet-to-be chopped wood logs pondering which parts he could use. What about the eyes? Such tough cuts that he was never taught to do much with. Perhaps he could attract something with them. A bear or dog. Anything. The nose as well, nothing but a bait. It was the skin he couldn't decide on.

The doe needed skinning before anything else and as his knife worked at it he wondered. He could take the fur off and have Feliciano cut it into fine bits and dry for later food. Or he could use it as leather, which was also needed badly. And again, pelts for warmth were always required. He would tan it, it could always be traded. He scraped the fat off, collecting it in a bucket for Feliciano to melt down and can. Gilbert especially needed the fat as he was getting too thin. The door moaned as Feliciano pushed against it, using his shoulder to shove passed the rocks and dirt that wee laid against the bottom of the door. His tired eyes were overshadowed by a smile. They had food. He took the bucket of fat, knowing well what it's for. Hoisting up the bucket he rushed it back to the kitchen where a warm pot was waiting for it. His stomach gurgling and yelling at him as he scrapped every last bit of fat into the pot. Stirring as he watched Ludwig out the window. The tick fat melting and slowly becoming liquid.

The whole animal quickly became small cuts of meat. Some he immediately cut into slivers and hung to dry. The rest he began to pack and seal up. A majority of it would be cooked today and stored in cans, stews, soups, whole cuts, pickled, hashed, Feliciano started thinking of any and all ways he could can the food and still give a decent meal. The empty pantry soon became full to the brim with meat. Some whole muscles cuts for tonight to celebrate the kill.

Even Gilbert was jovial. He had requested a bit be dried for him to eat throughout the day. Ludwig had gone up with the leg and showed him the beautiful composition of the muscles. The elder brother nearly ripped from the younger's hands and clawed for the meat. It had been a long slow past few months. The meat seems to whisk that all away.

ooooooooooooo

The dinner table had been lacking manners for a while, and tonight the men reached a new record in savage eating. Feliciano's nimble thin fingers picked the tiniest morsels from his plate. His fork abandoned with the other utensils. His fingers were coated in broth and oil that he licked and even bit at to get specks of fat or grease from. The cut of meat still was on the bone and this did nothing to stop Ludwig. His massive hands curled and held the bone to his face as his teeth sliced through the meal. Tendons of his neck straining with pull to get every last possible edible thing off the pearly bones. When the flesh before him disappeared he gnawed along the bone, teeth running along the milky rod, and soon there was nothing but a perfectly clean cannon bone. Gilbert disregarded any previous trained politeness. The noises he produced from snorting, gulping, chocking, and salivating would kill most people's appetite. He had drooled on his chin and plate, face covered in the meat he had pestered Feliciano for, who had given in and gave Gilbert slightly more uncooked than safe.

Then there was a silence. Breathing and panting. Picking at the littlest suspects of food. Gilbert licking his plate and grabbing for his brother's only to realize Ludwig had beat him too it. It was a small amount, Ludwig had already rationed the food to last another 2 months. The cannon bones had been stewed and eaten this night. A whole cut of brisket and the rib cage was sealed in a barrel to make a crude smoker. That was their breakfast. Feliciano and Ludwig had agreed to take turns tending it in the night.

Gilbert sat, his stomach warm and full. His wounds hurt less, not in reality but because he had been happy. His desire to suffer in silence was subdued for a moment. To be with his brother and Feliciano at the dinner table gave him some peace. All of them remained quiet though. Almost as if in a high form the food. And the euphoria lasted well into the night. Gilbert had almost fallen asleep as Ludwig helped him up the stairs. Not a curse, swear or hex spit from his mouth. Laying down and immediately falling asleep. His injured leg like an anchor in a sea of sheets and blankets, keeping that leg down to one spot while the rest of his body attempted to flex and get comfortable.

Ludwig followed suit. Going into his bedroom he sat on the mattress, yanked off his socks, his trousers, and shirt. Throwing them from where he sat into the bathroom basket. The bull of a man was now lean and on the verge of being too thin. His stomach had a distension and he let the weight of it sink him unto his side. Blue eyes half lidded and staring blankly into the wall. Thick fingers fisting into the sheets and toes curling in comfort. Soon after, the glow of the lights soon stairs went dark and Feliciano's quiet steps pattered into the bedroom. As was his usual manner, he took off his shirt and threw it on the floor, his pants a wrinkled pool with the belt still attached.

"Ludwig, you're not sleeping in your-" There was a light snore that interrupted him. The pale blonde lashes on the younger's lids fluttered with a flinch, as if Ludwig was still aware of him, but he snored on. Feliciano thought it a tad peculiar that Ludwig hadn't bothered to dress in his night clothes, opting to sleep in merely his underwear. He blamed it on the food making Ludwig too relaxed to fight sleep.

Feliciano slipped under the covers. Eyes at Ludwig's back. A line of small sores was dotted around. Ludwig had always blamed them on the state of his country. The ugly mars left a series of scabs in their wake, some of which had turned to crusty skin that would flake and leave, hopefully, no trace.

ooooooooooooooooo

The next morning was overly bright and sunny. Ludwig grumbled as the sun radiated past his eyelids and commanded he get up. Like a child, he tried to fight, just five more minutes. Ludwig's metabolism was not accommodating to his fatigue. Once he was up, he was up. There was never a hope of the man falling back asleep until the night came. He did however indulge himself in the post wake up laze, where his brain rediscovered he had limbs and bones and that he could move. Each of his thick joints flexing and giving a moan as he blinked awake. He felt the feeling in his legs and arms return. Then another sensation.

He didn't need to look, the tightening in his groin always gave it away. The sheets shifting up and around his morning erection, curving slightly. He sifted on his side to shield it in case Feliciano woke up and saw. It had been a long time since he had gotten a full erection, probably killed from stress and lack of food. This morning he would have a good breakfast and with a full stomach to work on, he could actually get a decent amount of labor done.

He sat up, a looked out the window. Slowly the dead grass had begun to tint with greenish pale yellows. The mountains, still had snow, but now only on their caps and the rivers were high and fast flowing. Soon, or rather hopefully, the farms in the valley would start to tend their fields and grow some food.

A grumble came from the blonde's stomach. He scratched at his chest a little and sighed. The meat left smoking should be done by now, the outside thickly charred with a smoke filled chewy bark of-

Erection.

Ludwig's eyes had frozen when he looked over his friend to the bathroom. The smaller man was still asleep, but he had rolled over. His boxers that once fit snuggly against lean square hips were slack and loose from lack of proper weight. His morning glory had slipped from the cotton confines and swollen proudly in Ludwig's direction. The man was still snoring lightly.

_What is that?_ Ludwig noticed Feliciano's erection, but it was tightly bound by his foreskin, refusing to reveal the head. He never saw such a thing, it almost looked painful. Without a thought or conscious choice his hand reached over and his index finger ghosted the very tip of the tightly scrunched foreskin. The his arm jerked back as if he had been shocked with a cattle prod.

What was he doing? Touching another man while he slept, how disgraceful. He scolded himself in his mind and heaved from the bed. Hurrying to the bathroom to wash his hands and get on with his day. The millisecond of touch still prompted up guilt. He had touch another man. Mind skittish from the time he lived in, such a thing was a… was it a crime? He lathered his hands with the old died up ration soaps. Cracking and flaking from the cheap haste in which they were made. His hands covered in a thick veil of suds. Scrubbing and cleaning beneath his nails and between the fingers.

ooooooooooooooooo

Ludwig had been quiet most of the day. Although he was happy, he was just silent in his work. His mind was busier than his hands though. While his arms glossed with a sweat finish that glimmered in the sun, his eyes were blank with thought. Saw biting away at the long piece of wood he was making into a new support beam. Once he set that up, he could work to finish the damage that was done so long ago to his home. His chest panted, unused to such work now, one arm straining to keep the board still, hair dripping for sweat and hanging into his eyes. A smudge of dirt on his left cheek from his suede work gloves when he reached to flick the sweat from his eyes.

His shoulders rolled with rhythmic sway, shirt off for comfort, every muscle coiled and flexed together. Feliciano stood in the ruined door frame. Watching, with a little envy. Ludwig could always be so handy. The saw would always bend and buck away from his smaller hands, so he was more bother than help or he would be aiding his friend. But staying out of Ludwig's way, Feliciano thought, was more helpful.

The chime of the phone interrupted his pouting and he reached over the couch. The phone slipped from the receiver and tipped over unto the table, Feliciano trying to grab up its cord before it fell. Giving a squeak of worry as the phone hit the floor. Reeling it back up, he held it gingerly too his ear.

"Beilschmidt residence," He said,

"I'm looking for a Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt?" There was a feminine voice on the other end. Cracking and fuzzy from the poor state of the phone lines, he had trouble hearing her.

"One moment," He set the phone down extra carefully, crouching be make sure it didn't hit the surface too hard.

"Ludwig!"

"What?"

"Phone call!" The sound of heavy boots thumping until inside, where the nails on the soles clipped the hardwoods echoed in the emptiness of the home. He thanks Feliciano and picked the phone up to his ear. Cringing at the sharp electric crackles and static.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," His tone slightly darker and uninterested.

"Good day Herr Beilschmidt, This is the hospital your son is at." His eyebrows raise and his voice shifts.

"Is everything alright?"

"Well, the doctor would like a word with you in person to discuss some things about your son." She said softly, "He is having a bit of a hard time." Ludwig paused for a moment. His face slowly bleeding of color.

"When would he like me to come?"

"He is open tomorrow around noon or Friday in the evening around seven," She said,

"Tomorrow… Is he.. Is my son ok?" Nothing but static answered him for a moment. Then finally a voice,

"He's awake, if that's good or bad I am not sure,"

**oooooooooooo**

_Aiming to have the next chapter update soon 83_

_if you like R&R please_


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I do not claim nor own any bit of Hetalia. This is purely a fan work._

_Note: Wow it has been LONG. I have been in Germany for a while so I haven't really been very 'writy'. In addition I've had so much school work to deal with, its been hard to catch a break. So here it is! FINALLY._

**ooooooooooooooo**

Ludwig hadn't slept yet. His eyes were dark, puffing, his checks lost the luster they had the day before. Feliciano had tried to place some stew in front of him, but he simply pushed the food around in the bowl before offering it to his brother. Gilbert excepted it but not in the usual vigor he accepted food. A silence. The Doctor didn't want to discuss anything over the phone, insisting Ludwig come and speak in person. Since that call, there had been quiet. Inside the blondes head nothing but white noise and dull stare to greet the world. The postman would drop off his car and stay a while for a meal, payment for his automobile and the rare diesel fuel it contained. Feliciano already preparing some meat for his arrival.

When the squeal of over worn brakes stopped on the dirt road out front Ludwig stood up and set his utensils down. He was not dressed as he would normally be. A white shirt that use to be an undershirt for his brown suit, when he was in any control, was hanging on his frame. Brown plain pants and his dress shoes that were scuffed and withered at the soles. He opened the door for the postman, greeted him with few words, thanked him, and left.

"Welcome, make yourself at home." Feliciano chirped once Ludwig had closed the door. Setting a plate of food at the empty seat. Though the postman himself wasn't what one would consider starving, he had lost weight since the end of the war. He was kept in work because of the need for post offices and deliveries, which kept food on the table for himself. He was a thick built man of a short and stocky stature. Black hair and pale dark green eyes vivid from under thick brows. He reached over and shook Feliciano's hand then reached for Gilbert who was a little slower to respond.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt,"

"Gunthar Liebstrung," He sat and smiled at the stew, "looks excellent," he compliments before beginning. There is a pause for a moment before Gunthar attempts a conversation.

"So, you are Ludwig's older brother?" He asks. Gilbert nodded but remained quiet. His flesh a little pallid as if he were on the verge of falling ill.

"Worried about that boy of Ludwig's?" He asked in a solemn tone.

"Yes," Gilbert admitted. But it wasn't the only reason. Gilbert had known Leos was susceptible to fatality. It is the nature of all nations, but he was not convinced the German people were dead. If Leos was sick, it may have been from real illness which can be cured, not his burden.

"Children can bounce back from illness quicker than adults." He tries to say encouragingly. Gilbert holds the spoon to his mouth a moment then places it back down. His staring into his bowl.

"He has been sick like this before."

The room went quiet. Feliciano stopped, bent over the table offering their guest some more food, turning to stare at Gilbert. The pale mans hands came up and his fingers interlaced, thumbs cradling his chin and he stared off into the far wall.

"This has happened before?" Feliciano asked to clarify he understood correctly. Gilbert again, nods and closes his eyes. As if it were something he didn't want to admit.

"It was after the first war. The masses of dying starving children and mothers. The husbands who had abandoned them in search of food or work or had simply given up. It was a hard time, and that is when Leos was sick like this. I watched him in that bed I had for him. I sat up night after night. The amount of medicines I went though, none of the worked. And he just slept. He never woke up until…" Gilbert paused, "Well, once he woke up he was in agonizing pain all over. Rolling and writhing when 'revolution' came. Then just as the sickness came, it had passed." Gilbert unfolded his arms and went back to eating. While everything registered with Feliciano, Gunthar looked at Gilbert as if he had been speaking to a mad man.

"But the war ended in 1918… That child can be no older than seven, eight at the most and even then he's a petite thing." Gunthar spoke with a hint of confusion and accusation.

"Don't mind Gilbert, he's been having a hard time and sometimes gets his facts mistaken… I think he means this war, yes?" Gilbert remained unmoving for a second then sighed.

"Yes, my apologizes, this war…" He lifted himself up and hobbled on his makeshift cast. Hanging unto the wall for support. Leaving the two alone in the kitchen while his eyes aimed for the sofa. The stiff wood boarding making it uncomfortable to sit in a chair for long, he had been dying to get out of it. He wasn't of much use in the presence of their company anyway.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The grand windows of the children's ward had been opened and fresh air allowed in. The sweet scents of blooming flowers and tender grass was a welcome perfume over the sterile sense killing odor of chemicals. Children sat in their beds, eating and drinking their lunch. Some nurses sitting with the more weak or disabled ones. A boy with both hands bandaged being fed, his head shaved with stitches crisscrossing his skull. Smiling for the food the young nurse was giving him. Some were infants, being paced the length of the ward by the more experienced nurses, bottle to their lips. An elderly nurse wobbling by him, much hunched from age and labor, a smile missing most teeth and eyes pale with aliment. In her hands a tiny baby which looks burned, suckling peacefully as a red blistered arm kneaded into the blanket it was wrapped in.

Then came the last little section of curtain. All was quiet, unlike before when screams came shrilling down the halls. Was this silence good? Ludwig halted a moment and brought his hand to the buttons of his shirt and held them. Clasping in thought. But his processing was disturbed,

"Mr. Beilschmidt?" Ludwig winced a little, not expecting a voice behind him. He whip himself around and put his hand back by his side, his shoulders up, back into his suit of confidence.

"Doctor…" Ludwig hadn't seen the doctor in person since he showed up with Leos in his arms begging for a bed. The man wasn't much different from that black clouded day. He was shorter than Ludwig, plump with a thick wide build. He looked like a farm laborer with a white coat placed on him. Glasses tilted slightly, the rims worn from years of use. Large ears held them in place on his wide bridged nose that bore a series of small scars. His black hair was thinning out on the top, his beard flecked with grey, and flesh beginning to age.

"I thought we may take a walk and discuss your son's condition," He went to Ludwig's side and ushered him away from the curtains that concealed his boy. The two men exited the hall and began to stroll down a more placid area of the hospital. Ludwig stayed silent, staring down on the marble floors.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, your son has a rather peculiar condition," He began, Ludwig just nodded. Surely with all the work this man has done to his son he would notice Leos was not exactly a normal child.

"We feed him high calorie formulas rich in fat and vitamins, yet he gains barely any weight. His body is severely emaciated, but his blood tests all come back for that of an almost normal level of health besides a few expected abnormalities with his infections. In addition to that, it would seem that the age of your son doesn't match him physically, if this were a child brought to me with no information, I would guess him a four to five year old boy. It is these things which concern me the most." He pauses for Ludwig to speak should he have words but the blond merely nods in acknowledgement. "That aside, he has several infections on his legs and back from the previous hospitals bed sores. He gives us quite a fight about cleaning them." The doctor chuckles, "His coma has subsided and he has been staying awake a good twelve to sixteen hours a day, his appetite is good, he is starting therapy to walk again and can already take a good amount of steps with assistance." A smiles perked at Ludwig's cheek,

"I am happy to hear,"

"However… There is a matter of his burn." Ludwig's chest clenched and twisted until it felt as if his skin was going to wrinkle and churn to drain into his chest. The burn. Horrible enough someone should take a severe burn, even worse given what shape the burn was in. He waited for the doctor to continue.

"It burned him to the bone, to his rib cage and there is severe scaring and infection. He wouldn't let any nurse near him without a problem."

"He hates women," Ludwig says,

"He has expressed his hatred many times," the doctor laughs and shakes his head. "Back to the burn though. Although it is severe and infected my biggest fear is his exposure to other children. I actually believe that this hospital would hold back his recovery based on the amount of infectious diseases that come through." He says. Ludwig stops,

"What are you saying?" his face deadpans, is this doctor kicking his son from the hospital? Was Leos too much of a problem patient? Is it that he can't pay?

"I think Leos is well enough to return home so long as he sticks to a strict regime of medicines and cleaning. If you can provide the food and cleaning, my staff can compound medicines for him and you can take him home."

Home. He could return home? The world around Ludwig was no longer sensed and his brain devoted its energy to the debate of his son's life. He wanted nothing more than to take his boy. Away from the sterile pain of hospitals, nurses, and agony of others suffering. However, was this a wise idea? Could he provide food for the child? Soap to clean his wounds? Bandages to keep fresh? Would Leos be bed bound? If so, where would he put him with his brother bedridden in the boy's room? While most parents would be leaping for joy, Ludwig stood paralyzed in place.

"We should visit your son and decide if taking him home is plausible, yes?" The Doctor tried to snap him from his still state. Ludwig merely followed in silence. His eyes to the floor. Thinking, calculating, trying to decide the best action based on need and not selfishness. The children's ward had gotten noisy fast after the food was eaten. More healthy children playing while sicker ones seemed to be getting attention from nurses. Leos seemed so cut off. In the back corner, a white veil of curtain around his bed to block him from view that always seemed closed. Even children that were bandaged head to toe seemed to have been socializing somewhat.

Ludwig slid his fingers and parted the thin partition, slipping in as if he were sneaking into the room. Leos' section had a large window and a deep sill which the child was sitting on, curled up in a thin sheet and gazing out over the fields. It was hard to believe that soon the pastel shades of flowers would bloom in the fields again, the grass would be richer, and the fields bright with crops. Almost a year now since Leos had been in the care of this place.

Bones shifted from beneath the blanket, his head lolled to the side. At first, an expression of discontent and bitterness. Then his pale brows lifted, jaw fell open, and the boy wobbled to his feet. Stumbling like a newborn fawn towards it mother, he stepped from the sill to the bed, and jumped. Ludwig's arms went out, snatching him up before Leos' failed attempting at leaping had a chance to slam him into the floor. The boy's face instantly turning red, eyes squinting as they became wet and a loud cry pierces the hospital again. Sharp bones warping around the thick neck of his father's, head buried in his chest, latching to the warm. Ludwig's arms became a fortress, locking Leos into his grasp that no one had any hope of taking him from. The scent of old musk, plain soap and salt heavy on his father's chest, inhaling the odors in his sharp pants between wails. Ludwig's thick hands supporting him by the thigh and back. The child didn't feel like a human, he felt far more like an animal, like an emaciated rat. The flesh so quick to shift over bones. Squirming and crying, cold to the touch, it wasn't the way anyone wanted their child to feel like.

Ludwig turned and sat on the bed. His broad forehead resting on the meager shoulder of the child's. Eyes closed, he let a few tears slip between his pallid lashes.

"Sshhhh," he cooed, Leos' cry softening to hear his father's voice. "Ssssshhhhhhhhh," The hand on Leos' back began to shift and rubs circles. The cries fading to sniffles, then to nothing at all.

"Papa," It's all that was said for a few minutes as father and son sit together. Finally, Ludwig pulled Leos back so he could see his face. Pulling his sleeve up to clean the boy's teary eyes.

"How are you, Leos?" The soft deep tone soothed the boy's ears and mind. He merely pulled back closer to his parent as a response, then inhaled,

"It hurts,"

"I know," Ludwig's hand rubbed on his back a little. Sitting him up in his lap again. The boy did look smaller. Much smaller than when he first admitted him. He was too small, as if he had reversed in age. A thick padding of bandages held over his chest where the burn was. His arms dotted with little wounds or bruises that came with being in a hospital and confined almost always to a bed.

"Little Leos, we should change your bandages and show your father how to do them, yes?" The doctor had finally said. Leos tensed up, coiling in his father's hold and shook his head furiously. The doctor got up with a strained breath, his joints cracking a little and opened the curtains just a bit. Ludwig sat his son beside him but the boy was already beginning to get upset again and cry.

"Shhhh Leos, how am I to clean you if I can't bandage you?" He stroked the boy's hair but it didn't do too much to curb his impending fit. When the mere sight of the glass iodine bottle and roll of cotton came into the room the child cling against the strong bones of his father.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" Leos' voice, known to be a piercing cry unlike the others, rang high again. The doctor however did or stop or slow, to do so would only prolong the child's agony and fear. Old fingers, calloused and scarred like an old farmers hands, gently parted the buttoned down hospital uniform. Ludwig holding his son firmly, one hand to turn the weak boy's head into his neck for a gesture of comfort, but his eyes focused.

"No, they will see!" Leos cries into Ludwig's throat. The doctor clips off the bandages in lieu of unrolling them. The wound showing again.

Like an imprint in the sand, the mark sank deeply into his pale flesh. Muscle burned away leaving a red glow of raw scabbing. The brand was clear as stone engraving, there was no mistaking it. As bright as the banners it once hung on it. The disfigurement was un-healable even if his son recovered.

"Come now Leos, be brave," The doctor encouraged,

"They'll see! They'll see! It's a bad!" Weak legs rose to push which Ludwig quickly eased back down to the bed.

"No, shhhhhh, calm down," His voice firm but not scolding.

"I know how you feel Leos," The doctor said as he began to wet some cloth.

"No, no, no one knows!" Leos' voice was broken with pants. His tone wasn't that of a whining child. It was desperate one, as if he comprehended the gravity of what was on his chest. Leos turned away and hid his wound. Ludwig trying to pry him off enough so the doctor could clean him.

"I am marked," The doctor says simply. Leos sniffed a little, looking the man over. "Mine is different, but if you want, I will show you mine." His thick hands patted the thin thighs of the boy. Leos turned quiet, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"O-ok." He said, "Where is y-yours?" The doctor rolled up one sleeve of his jacket and began to unbutton his cuff. Leos leaned forward to inspect the muscle laid over his forearm.

Tiny scars littered his skin, some large and gnarled from severe injuries, even slim slits from the slip of a knife or glass. Ludwig looked away. His son leaning and pulling gently at the skin until a greenish black mark straightened into a line of readable digits.

"It's healed," Leos said,

"Not yet, but…" He didn't finished that thought but went unto to another, "Just like you it's something I have to live with. It is a bad mark, but I will not let it shame me. I will not let it get in way of my opportunity." He smiled, "Now, you won't let it ruin your opportunity, hm?" He offered, parting Leos' arms.

"How'd you get it?" He asked, letting his mark be exposed again. Ludwig's head ducked low. Avoiding even looking at the doctor or his son now, keeping his gaze down at the wound.

"Not unlike yours," He answered, dabbing the cotton into the wound lightly. Old scab and blood sticking to it, a pile of dirtied cotton stacking up as it was changed. Then a heavy coat of iodine. Leos squirmed and gave a whimper, but his teeth bit against his lip and bore the sting. Quick hands rolled around the tiny torso of the boy to hold in a sheet of soft cotton. A tiny safety pin to lock it all together.

"Good boy Leos," Ludwig whispers and gave a ruffle to his hair. Leos leaned against his father, fingers trembling as he attempted to button himself up. Ludwig's larger hands going down to help. His blue eyes case down, unable to look the doctor in the face.

"Thank you for saving my boy." There were plenty of doctors killing off German children. Allow them to succumb to primitive illness and filth. They were mostly the doctors of the victors. People who hadn't been through the brunt of what this one had.

"I'm.. sor-" Ludwig began,

"Don't apologize. _Please_." The Doctor said, "I cannot have hate in me, to have it would condemn me to a life of further suffering." He paused and snapped the gloves off his hands. "That's not to say everyone is quiet as flexible as me." He said, and gave the boy a smile. He had gazed at the doctor for the duration of the conversation. Something of an understanding gaze, even though Ludwig had done well to mask him from the subject.

"So, my good sir, do you believe you can take him home?"

**ooooooooooooooooo**

_Special Note: I've begun taking class on Nazi Eugentics and policies as well as holocaust studies. I may do a play on this fic in the future since I am armed with more acurate information._

_**ALSO**- are you into rping? Do you like to dabble in a bit of taboo subjects such as Communism, National Socialism, etc? If you aren't afraid of some heavy things, there is a part in **-desperate-** need of being taken over in an RP I am part of. It's a great little story but its quite out there and based off in part on **'Petalia',** another work of mine. If you like the concept of Petalia and are **very open minded**, Send me a pm and if you feel you want to take over **the leading role**, let me know. You can also create additional, well formed, accurate characters of your own. However, without the Lead Role, the rp will die and thus, no point in inviting others, eh?** SO** if you feel you are cut out I will send you a brief summary. You don't have to be epic at rping but at least 1+paragraph posts. It done in real time on MSN._


	13. Chapter 13

_Note- Sorry its been so long. Classes kept me away and I was in Berlin and Koetze for a while. The rp position is still open. _

_Disclaimer- I don't own hetalia_

**oooooooooooooooooo**

Gunthar had long left and Gilbert retreated into his room. Feliciano had stayed down stairs, idly poking at the embers of the stove. The crackling simmer of the fire did something to calm him. In lieu of trying to think all at once, each idea flowed in a single line through his consciousness. How he changed. Years ago, he thought he'd be too frightened to even step foot in a war devastated zone. Let alone survive in such a place. Even with Ludwig at his side, nothing stopped a stray bullet.

_Still, as hard as it is _He thought _I'm sort of happy I can work._ It wasn't a strange thought, he had been useless before and was now something of a third hand to Ludwig. His brother didn't really need him. The thin man smiled and laid the cast iron stoker to the side.

His head rose when he heard the chug of a familiar engine. The sky had thickened again with clouds, not unusual, but the sudden downpour that came from the previous drizzle was a little more startling. He stood up, seeing the headlights gaze across the walls of the room and turn with the road. Like an eager dog, He came to the door and waited for it to open. Listening to the sound of heavy boots in a lumbering sway of long legs. The jingle of a set of keys nearly too thick to turn on its ring.

He saw the lock turn and pop open.

"Welcome back," He chirped softly. There was a silence, Ludwig hadn't walked in yet. Shuffling. But finally an answer,

"Hello Feli," He stepped in, covered in his thick leather coat. With his back turned to Feliciano, he shouldered the door closed again.

"Could you lock it?" Ludwig asked as he turned and Feliciano stood frozen.

"Leos," He had brought the child home. Asleep and laid against his father's chest, he wasn't aware he was home. Feliciano reached and touched one of his boney hands.

"He's ok?" Feliciano looked up with flecks of cheer in the corners of his eyes.

"No," Ludwig answered, "But good enough to be released from the hospital." Feliciano hummed but didn't answer. The little boy was home.

"Maybe things will get better," He said, but this time Ludwig was silent. He wasn't sure. There was deep pain in his bones, vibrating from the marrow out. His joints ached like an old mans and his shoulders felt as if he were harnessed like a work horse dragging fallen trees. And that was just his country alone. The child…

"We should get him settled," Feliciano offered, "But… where is he too sleep? Gilbert is in Leos' room. And Leos can't be down stairs, not in these times," Feliciano said.

"He'll sleep with us until I figure something out. Maybe I can move Gilbert into the office down here, it would be easier for him anyway. I just have to finish patching the roof and supporting the studs." Ludwig's hand stroked over his son's arm as he stared into the floor. It was all going fast for him. Feliciano offered a gentle touch of his fingertips to Ludwig's arm to snap him out of it. It worked, and Ludwig looked around as if he didn't remember where he was for a moment. Then began up the stairs.

Even though he knew Leos' was underweight, he still seemed heavy. Or perhaps that was just his fatigue. He eventually huffed to the top and shifted around the sleeping boy's weight. Feliciano was in the taller man's shadow.

"He is going to sleep a lot, ve?" Ludwig nodded,

"It's getting food, he needs so much to heal… Can I provide it?" Ludwig asked, but no one answered him. The stroke of luck that was the meat they had now would only last so long with four mouths devouring it. Two of which were injured.

"You should take a bath. I will stay with Leos." Feliciano offered,

"No," Ludwig clenched his fists.

"You are clammy, and smell odd, and disheveled, come on Ludwig." Small hands rested on the back of Ludwig's shoulder blades. But he didn't move. He stared at the boy's pale hair and skin. The way his body curled and arched to avoid pressure on his chest. Bones, that's all, just bones with a dusting of flesh.

"Ludwig, you are going to have to leave his side some time. You can't carry him around with you everywhere."

"Yes I can." He answered quickly and determined. As if he were literally going to carry his son around forever. Feliciano gave a sigh. Ludwig was stubborn in his ways and once his mind was made, there was nothing that could be done to budge it.

"Rest at least," Feliciano said and wandered to the bathroom. He reappeared with a damp cloth and offered it to Ludwig. The blond sat and wiped his face clean. His broad fingers pressing back his hair.

"I will go down stairs and prepare you something to eat." Feliciano spoke softly. Then his arms rose, hesitantly. Stalling halfway. Then came closer and wrapped around Ludwig's bowed head. His lips touched either side of his temples and then slid back off. He turned and left.

**Oooooooooo**

_It's just custom_ Ludwig thought. Feliciano's polite peck had made his head hot and neck feel sweaty. His squirmed uncomfortably. But his mind couldn't handle more confusion. Not right now at least.

_Just a polite gesture _He thought again. Something about it irritated him, but not in a bad way. Which only forced him to think about it more. He heaved himself on his side and laid next to his son. A wide hand resting over the thin pelvis. His stress grew. Every stigma-ed thought, worry and insult that pattered along his worn mind made him tense. His fist pressed down and there was a moan and then a squeak.

Leos gave a half unconscious cry squirming under his father's hand that had become too pressing. Ludwig immediately lifted his palm.

"Leos, shh, Leos." He whispered, "I am sorry, it's only me," He edged closer and sighed. The boy quieted and rubbed his eyes. Then gasp a little. His wide eyes looking around.

Home.

"Papa I'm at home?" His voice crackled weakly from drowsiness,

"Yes," Ludwig almost whispered it. Like Leos was some forbidden thing to have and if anyone overheard them someone would rush in and take him.

"Am I staying?"

"Of course,"

"No more hospital?"

"… You may need to see the doctor once and a while," Ludwig couldn't promise the boy. The child frowned but was too tired to pout much over the answer. Instead He curled tighter into his father's warmth.

"I hated it there, I hated it." He spoke into his father's chest.

"What did you hate?" Ludwig asked. Leos was quiet a moment and for a while Ludwig thought he wouldn't respond with anything.

"Temperatures," He answered,

"Temperatures?" Ludwig asked, as if pain or washing, or hunger or being teased wasn't number one. Certainly all those jockeyed for first.

"When they took my temperature. I hated it. I was bad to them." Leos spoke in a soft tone. One tiny finger idly playing with a button on his father's shirt.

"Why did you hate it?" Without a passing beat, he answered,

"Because they put it up my bum."

The thick fingers of Ludwig's hand combed through his son's hair and cradled his small skull. They took a rectal temperature. That was common and more accurate. With a boy in such a state as his, it was only careful and professional to get the most truthful vitals.

"How'd you feel when that happened?" Ludwig asked,

"…Scared." He squeaked

"They were only doing it to help you, yes?" Ludwig insisted but Leos shook his head. Ludwig held him a little firmer but he fidgeted in discomfort. A prickling heat, like glowing hot needles spidered up his ribs and nicked into Ludwig's throat at the thought of Leos' past. But then again, he didn't know much.

Gilbert had been wavy with details, inconsistent, blunt and yet deceitful. It was his brother's nature to be sly but protective. What really happened, the grit of it, Ludwig believe could only come from Leos' mouth.

"Well, no temperatures then, ok?" Ludwig hummed and his boy's lips perked in a happy smile. His feet shifting and rubbing against the soft blankets. The smell of his father saturated into the bed. Flecks of his hair spilled over the mattress and his pale eyes focused on playing in his father's baggy shirt.

"Where's Papa Prussia? And Mr. Italy?" He asked,

"Feliciano is down stairs making us some food, and Gilbert is sleeping. He is ill, and in your room, so you will sleep in our-. I mean, my bed ok?" Ludwig faltered at the word 'our'. Feliciano slept in it, yes, but it was still Ludwig's bed, correct? They weren't parents or lovers, Feliciano just happened to be a welcomed source of heat in a bitterly cold part of the world.

"Can I get my Lamb?" Leos perked and a wide smile spread on Ludwig's face. Nodding softly. Leos began to roll over to the edge of the bed. Dragging himself in lieu of getting up. His legs still. He shifted them over the bed like they were dead weight and hesitated. His father could see, his legs were nothing. There was only bone and the muscles had wasted away. Leos knew it too. Could he walk?

He tried. The weak boy leaned up and pressed his feet on the ground. Wobbling and shaking. His knees buckled and splayed out to the side. Tiny fists grabbed the sheets to prevent him from falling to the wood flooring. He tried again. The same result. Ludwig reached over and with horrifying ease, lifted his boy up under the arms and sat him back on the bed.

"I'll get him for you," Ludwig smoothed over Leos' hair. He was cool to the touch, damp from a light sweat. Ludwig back away, making sure to slip in and out quietly. The old tattered lamb dangling above Leos' head. He smiled and reached up for it,

"Papa, my lamb!" He reached, tongue shifting out to one side as he stretched his arm high as he could. He dropped and his little arms caught it.

"Are you cold?"

"No, papa, I feel a little warm." He said bending the arms of the lamb to make it "box" and "punch". Ludwig's large hand wrapped around his forehead.

"You're cold though, let's keep you bundled," A small knock interrupted the conversation.

"Dinner," Feliciano chirped and shut the door so the noise didn't carry to where Gilbert slept. Setting down a small bowl of soup for Leos who thanked him but showed little appetite.

"How is he doing?" Feliciano sat next to Ludwig and offered him a bowl of food as well.

"Fine, he seems to be cold but says he is hot." Ludwig sipped at his spoon. Watching his avoid eating. That wasn't like him, usually he was such a ravenous boy.

"Ve, maybe he is running a fever, you should take his temperature." Leos snapped up straight his eyes wide.

"I-I'm f-fine. No, tempturature, please Papa. Papa I don't-"

"Shhhh," Ludwig quieted him, "Sleep tonight, maybe it will go away." He comforted,

"But Lud-" Ludwig's eyes rolled over to him. A mix of exhaustion and firmness.

**oooooooooooooooo**

_We will start getting into the darker stuff next chapter. Heading toward the Climax._**  
**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Clearly, I don't own Hetalia, but I love it enough to write about it ;D_

_**Note:**_ _First, sorry so much for my lack of updates. Mys studies, going back and form the form Germany and the UK, training some feral ponies from the US and my computer giving the blue screen of death, have all taken up my time. I hoped summer would give me time to finish this fic, but it hasn't XD. Thank you to all of my reviewers and people commenting!_

On a serious note, this chapter does begin to nose dive into the serious stuff. **This includes Child abuse, rape and prostitution.** Clear warning, this isn't a happy chapter. On the bright side, good things will come of bad.

The next morning the window framed a monotone world of grays. Dead birch bark, watered down ink bleeding sky, and a the leaves crippling from a sudden cold snap. But inside though, Ludwig opened his eyes to a world teaming with color. In the brown wooden beams that held up his roof were reds and greens molding against each other. The thin cotton sheets were blue and yellow, most likely tinted from the night gown they were and the old sweat they excreted. The marble handles on his dresser shined gold hues from the brass hardware.

He rolled over to see Feliciano flopped out with his arms sprawled. Like a cat he crooned out and took up as much space on the most awkward of angles as possible. Leos curled within his curves, adapting without complaint. Ludwig didn't mind so much his arm was dangled off the bed and his leg teetered over the brim of the mattress.

He got up to do his routine. Shave, wash, make some breakfast. Again a father, he opened his cupboards to evaluated what they were stocked with. Nothing. Nothing a growing and sick boy needed. The garden was sprouting but even from the thick crooked window he could see the plants had taken a bit of damage. Not long after he began to slice up some fresh meat, did Feliciano awake. The early mornings of Ludwig's shadow being Leos may be over. Now Feliciano went silently to work. Chopping and aiding in his morning grog like an experienced wife.

"I've got to get more kinds of food in here." Ludwig said, there was a robustness to his voice.

"Ve," Feliciano gave a morning pout and rubbed his eyes. He always thought about food. Food, food, food. Where it was coming from, how to get it, what kind it was, when he could and couldn't eat, how to make it, his mind was obsessed. "What kind?"

"Eggs, mushrooms, anything at all besides pure meat. We need jars too for canning the crop. I'll need to go into town." Town had grown more and more hostile. Not because the people where angry, they were desperate. Less and less cared about those who had been involved in the war and responsible for their situation, like Ludwig. Such people were the least concern when it came to their children eating and fighting for a piece of wood.

"You can go now if you want." Feliciano slide more toward the center of the table. Their hips bumping. "I can finished this," He added with a yawn and sliced some more meat and hovered his hand over the pan. Ludwig blushed slightly and stepped away. It was a playful bump, nothing more.

**oooooooooo**

Upon entering the plaza, there was a scene of carnage. Without crops ready, there was a push for one last scrap or crumb. A horse was slaughtered and half eaten on the cobbles. One man paced around it and sold cuts from it for oil, other food, cigarettes, canned rations, and metals. Even the bones were able to be sold. The organs had been long devoured aside from one kidney which was still for sale on a crate which gathered flies.

Ludwig turned his eyes from it. He didn't need cuts of meat that would perish after eating. He was after something rare, a chicken. A chicken would provide eggs, grant it only one per day at best and most likely one every two or three days, but renewable none the less. He could make richer breads and noodles. The shells useful fertilizer or baked and crushed and added to food for that all important and scarce calcium. If he could find two or three or however many he would buy them all.

As if God had been eavesdropping a clucking was heard. His pale eyes searched frantically for their source.

Guarded like a prince were two old hens. Something that once was easily tossed away and killed or sold because of their lack of production. Now, people crowded and offered what they had. Watches, tools, wood, cigarettes. The hens were broody and ruffled their feathers at on lookers.

Ludwig rushed to them and took from his pocket a stash. The bidding was up to a pack of cigarettes. Ludwig held up two and half cartons and silver men's ring.

Someone else held up three cartons and stock of silver coins.

Ludwig took out his pocket watch and held it up. It was finely made, gold with etchings and a matching chain. Americans enjoyed these things and it could easily be sold.

Again out bid. Three and 4 sticks of cigarettes, the coins, and pocket watch to match.

Ludwig panicked and pulled out a silver lighter.

No one challenged the bid.

In a rush of adrenaline, Ludwig slowly began to realize he had won the hens. He scrambled to the front and dropped his possessions. The seller scrutinizing them as if he knew what was real or not. His dark eyes glossed over Ludwig and he muttered something in a Gerlish slur. Tossing the hens to Ludwig, he paid him no mind as he brought the next item up for sale.

He ran out of the town. Eyes were on him and stalking his move. He could feel the ill will of theirs in his muscle fibers, tripping him up on the uneven cobbles. He kept a brisk pace, trying not to notice the scenes around him. Children grew cunning and brushed closed. Knowing what the hens meant. One even stepped out in front of Ludwig whom he had to step around. He could feel the tiny fingers just grace his pants attempting to snatch him. To beg.

Out of the town was no safer. Faster he went, every bush, tree and shadow was not to be trusted. His pale eyes caught every movement. The hens clucked under each arm. He wished they'd be silent.

There was a clicking, a brush of dried bush. He stopped and tried to hear it again. But it too stopped. Ludwig backed into the forest. Moving between the growth and lack thereof. There was someone else in the forest.

The rustling got closer, then faded back. Ludwig back tracking in a circle. His lungs burning as he kept his breathing shallow and silent.

They passed.

Stepping from a bush, it was more than one man. Dishelved and with crude weapons.

"He got away, slick prick." One of the spat.

"I wanted those hens, I'd have killed him for it." He sighed hotly and leaned against a nearby tree. The hens silent in the darkness of the forest helped.

"Let's go back, we can't miss out if there is other livestock for sale." His friend convinced and they walked past.

Ludwig stayed in the darkness. Letting his lungs take in musty air and darkness. After a moment he stood up, checked both ways as if to cross a street, then continued his fast pace home.

**ooooooooooo**

Deciding the chickens were best left in the cellar, where less chance of them being spotted was, Ludwig opened a crate and placed it on a shelf as a make shift nesting box. He opened the small windows to let as much light in as possible. Feliciano lingered down quietly. His steps unheard until Ludwig turned and jumped out of his skin at the silhouette of another man.

"Ahck, Feli, you mustn't sneak up like that," Ludwig scolded lightly.

"Ve, sorry Ludwig… I didn't want to scare the hens… How are they? Why keep them here?" Feli leaned over Ludwig's shoulder to get a peek into the corner shelf.

"I had some people following me. They wanted the hens, so I will keep them down here a few days. Later they can be out in the day and go in at night. I wish not to build a coop or something to advertise their presence." He lowered the lamp to inspect the hens. He hadn't before, unsure if the birds were even fit to lay.

Their feathers were missing in places. Their eyes half closed and tired. One was missing a toe and the other her comb. He felt the chicken's side and they were thin.

"They need some fattening. Any crumbs will go to them, moldy food, or bad seed. If there is fat you just can't get from the pot, roll this soured things in them and feed that to the hens, okay?" Ludwig explained. Feliciano nodded and leaned more on Ludwig's shoulder. Feeling that the cushion of muscle once there, was no longer. Just the springy bone and flesh cover. His fingers gripped a little on Ludwig's shoulder. Mourning this loss of warm flesh.

Ludwig felt it, and didn't shrug him off. He was too exhausted to fret about social norms. He just wanted rest. In the dark, Feliciano swallowed to hold back a sad tone of voice.

"They'll be great hens, once fat, we'll eat like kings. Maybe we can find a rooster." He declared in a cheery tone. Ludwig smirked to himself. So optimistic.

"Ja," He stood straight and killed the wick of the lamp. Setting it by the door and then locking the cellar.

"Leos up yet?"

"No, sleeping like a stone." Feliciano said.

"Good, I don't think he rested well once he was conscious. He should be left to sleep for now."

"Gilbert…" Feliciano piped up then shut up. His lips pressing together. Ludwig took a step forward to pressure him.

"I think Gilbert's leg is worse. I mean, it was dying when we cast it. The flesh has sopped off and then healed but… I saw some black edges again. He thinks its dirt or infection but Ludwig…" Feliciano's bright eyes pleaded with Ludwig to confirm or reject the idea.

"I'll tend to it after lunch," He sighed and walked past Feliciano and into the kitchen.

**oooooooooo**

"Brother," Ludwig's voice was deep. He had learned ot handle his defensive brother, who laid with his arms crossed and brows together. He had refused for Feliciano to help wash his wounds. Requesting privacy instead.

"I'm fine, tend to your child," Gilbert's tone nearly hissed. His arms coiled and teeth bared. Ludwig was un-intimidated by his brother's snake like mood swings. They were his only defense.

"Show me the wounds, Feliciano says they are not doing good." Ludwig came forward. Gilbert's back pressed to the pillows. He had nowhere to evade.

"Ludwig… Go. Away."

"No,"

"Gilbert," The albino male flashed his teeth in a sneer. Ludwig placed his hand on Gilbert's knee. And he shrieked. His back arched sharply, the imprint of his ribs against his thin clothing, his head back.

"Stop touching me!" His hands flung wildly and flung Ludwig's arm away. Ludwig immediately backed off. Something was under the brace that he hadn't done right. Something in the home repair of his leg which caused him so much pain to such a light touch. He had to see it.

"Do you want to die? You've seen what an infection will do to a man! If it is infected you must show me."Ludwig could not budge or apologize, Gilbert would only use this as leverage for making his brother go away.

"…" Gilbert turned his head away and didn't answer the question.

"Gilbert?"

Silence.

"Gilbert, things are hard but... Surely," His tone was softer,

"Ludwig… Just leave me alone." He turned over, his cast leg twisted and remaining relatively still.

**oooooooooo**

Ludwig had let the issue with Gilbert rest and turned to calling Elizabetha. She had the talent of setting his aggressive mind into a cooperative state. In the interim, he drifted up the stairs and sat with his sleeping son.

He rested in thought. Listing to the sound of what birds remained and the rustle of trees. His thoughtless daydreams were interrupted by a slight tut of breath. Leos' face had turned from placid to wrinkled. His thin body curled and made himself small. The thin bones of his fingers, nearly visible, clutched the bedding. He tremored gently and began to breath harder.

Ludwig's large hand rested over his back. His little finger at the base of his neck, his thumb past Leos' tiny rib cage. Such a small boy. The shaking was soothed but met with a louder grown of agony, to which Leos woke too.

He seemed in a daze, eyes unfocused and not acknowledging or perhaps even understanding that his father was there.

"Leos?"

He was only answered with a soft cry and sniff of a tiny nose.

"Shhhh Leos… Did you have a bad dream?"

Leos shook his head and balled his fist into his eye to clean the tears off.

"They aren't dreams," He said softly, "They're real… Or they happened… I don't like going to sleep anymore." He said.

"What did you dream about?"

"… Mother,"

"What happened?"

Ludwig was expecting silence or evasion. He had only heard of inconsistent and half lies from his brother about Leos' past. Whatever compelled his brother to lie, he didn't know, but Leos seemed consistent in his dodging as well. Today, however, the boy didn't hold back.

"I'm in the room again… Tied… My skin is stinging but I can't see why it is. Mother has finished with a customer and asks if he can have me too. She says yes, she always says yes. The price is higher than her own and he gets mad at it. But he pays… He's well dressed, I remember how soft his blue jacket is as it drapes over my sides. Some of the costumers are more gentle, but he isn't. He asks my age, mother says three, but she's always said that. I don't know what that means, age or three, but it puts a smile on most of their faces. This man doesn't speak clear. His accent is common, but not like mother's or any of the other women.

"I don't know the word for it. Mother called it servicing, or mounting, or spreading. None of those words make sense though. He just goes where the thermometer goes. It burns. It burn and hurts a lot. But I've learned to cry soft so mother doesn't hear. Sometimes it upsets a costumer and they stop. Then I get it worse from her… He bends my back as he pushed me with his hips. That hurts too, on my stinging skin. But he won't stop. I know it doesn't last long…

"He finished, I can feel it… Then just leaves. I'm in a lot of pain but rolling over helps. Curling a little, and grabbing the sheet. It somehow helps."

**ooooooooooooooooooo**

Ludwig went cold. His mind separated from his body. His vision blurred and eyes were unfocused. His jaw was open but his lungs sucked in no air. They were paralyzed. He stroked over the hair of his son.

"Leos, I brought you som-" Feliciano bumped the door open with his hip and stood still with a warm blood of food in his hands. Ludwig looked like a troubled stone statue.

"It will be okay, Leos, you can tell me any time you are afraid, okay?" Ludwig rubbed his back softly. "Have something nice and warm to eat," He stood and walked past Feliciano. The Italian smiled and came to the bed, sitting down and offering the bowl of soup.

Ludwig flew out of the house. Storming into the forest. The bushes and branches grabbed him, lashing him with their brown and bony hands. His flesh scraping as he rushed further into the forest. An amputated limb of an oak tripped Ludwig's feet. He fell on his side but stung back up. Pacing, unsure what to do. His mind thundering, his vision a blur and fuzz of what colors were around him. Hisheart pulsed with rage.

How could.

Why.

Who.

How dare.


End file.
